Dear Life, I Hate Chuck Bass
by Isabelle
Summary: COMPLETE. Post 2.05. When Blair wakes, the last thing she can remember is falling asleep the night Serena came back to New York. But apparently it’s 18 months later. She’s no longer Nate’s girlfriend, Serena is remorseful, & Chuck Bass… is in love with he
1. Chapter 1

**Prologue** of _Dear Life, I Hate Chuck Bass_

Author: Isabelle

Rating: PG-13

Summary: After 2.05. When Blair wakes, the last thing she can remember is falling asleep the night Serena came back to New York. But apparently it's 18 months later. She's no longer Nate's girlfriend, Serena is remorseful, and Chuck Bass… is in love with her.

Disclaimer: I do not own Gossip Girl.

A/N: Another crazy idea. Care to read?

--

"_We do not remember days; we remember moments."_

_Cesare Pavese_

Memory is like the soul. It's what you've seen, what you are, what you will become. It weaves its patterns over our lives, tasting experiences, creating reactions, forming bonds, and invigorating the senses. The more memories we carry; the more we grow up.

The last memory she had of her best friend, she had belittled her and easily forgotten the many times she had been there for her. Some memories were so easily forgotten behind mists of alcohol-induced good times. So easily forgotten. So easily concealed.

The guilt choked her when she realized she was missing. Guilt, guilt from her conscience whispered its raspy voice over her ear. Telling her. Telling stories, telling her dreams and moments she wished weren't real. They overwhelmed her, and she felt like dying.

She was never the dramatic one, never one to exaggerate, but in the moments like these that she couldn't control—she sensed a shaking that emanated from her body all the way to her hands.

Her feet, noisily under her, told the inhabitants that she was there. Warned them.

When she made it to the door, she didn't bother to knock, like in the times past were knocking would've been a priority – well, those were memories. Because they were, indeed, in the past.

The figures in the room were like ghostly hallows in the night – like shapeless souls.

The one by the door turned to her and let out a breath of relief, but her eyes were trained on the one by the bed. On the bed. Bent over until his forehead touched linen-clad knees.

The sorrow was so great that it had bent the body into a shapeless figure of the night. Buried there amongst its guilt.

"They found her."

No sooner had the words left her mouth that the bent figure unfolded itself and stared at her.

In the dark she could see the reddish tint of his eyes and the guilt – the powerful emotions – that took over his eyes.

"Is she…?" He whispered to her – his night angel bearing news.

"She's been in an accident. She's alive." Her own voice was acid and gum. Burning, burning, in the night – soft and tender, light and bright.

The other figure let out a second breath of relief.

"Lets go," she said to them, and they nodded – not needing another prompt, not needing another word.

The three guardians left then, their once abandoned sacred mission—the protection of one other—now remembered. Now revived.

--

They say that the loss of memory is like loss of the soul. The body lingers, the eyes blink, the mouth smiles – but the soul is gone. The person has floated away.

But she had floated nowhere. She knew who she was, she knew she was tired. She knew many things.

No. To lose one's memory is simply to experience loneliness for the very first time.

Burning, freezing, loneliness that consumes and destroys. Makes you shiver, makes you sick with the desire to, if for just one minute, remember.

The first memory she had of her time awake was of a face.

"Blair," he said to her.

She nodded. She nodded in her haze. That was her name.

But she was so tired. So… alone.

But saw his eyes. She knew those eyes.

"Blair," he said again.

She wanted to reply. She wanted to do much more than blink and stare, but her lips felt heavy and she decided to sleep. Before her mind drifted she thought she heard an angel crying. A soft, painful cry – almost inaudible to human ears. A precious grief. Private, hidden, and just for her.

And then… And then he was gone.

And she was alone once more.

All alone. The loneliness consumed her and she wished once more that she could remember, because if she could remember then she would understand why _he _was the one crying by her bed.

She told herself that it was a bad memory. The type formed in dreams.

--

Part 1


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 1** of _Dear Life, I Hate Chuck Bass_

Author: Isabelle

Rating: PG-13

Summary: When Blair wakes, the last thing she can remember is falling asleep the night Serena came back to New York. But apparently it's 18 months later. She's no longer Nate's girlfriend, Serena is remorseful, and Chuck Bass… is in love with her.

Disclaimer: I do not own Gossip Girl.

A/N: Another crazy idea. Care to read?

--

"_Nothing fixes a thing so intensely in the memory as the wish to forget it."_

_Michel de Montaigne_

_Supposedly _December 1st, 2008

According to my inept doctor, he recommends my writing all of the memories that come to mind. I have repeatedly informed him that I remember absolutely everything. I remember the small scar I have by my knee from the bicycle accident when I was seven years old. I remember the feeling of inferiority whenever Serena showed off a new dress. I remember the perfect color of Nate's beautiful eyes when he smiles at me.

Apparently, I also remember that the first person I saw when I woke was none other than Chuck Bass. As to why he was looming over me and staring at me with the most disturbing look, I cannot say, because my doctor (yes, the inept one) has asked that I learn things slowly. That not too much information be distributed at once.

I explain to everyone over and over that I am well in the hopes that they will leave me alone. I glare at the mirror before me and wonder why on earth my hair is so light. Why my skin is so tan and why my hips are larger.

I suppose you want to know how it all began? I suppose I'll tell you.

When I woke five days ago, I felt sticky, gross and instantly noticed that my legs had not been waxed.

What had happened that was so very horrible that my legs were not waxed? Inconceivable.

I made a mental note, before my eyes even fluttered, that I had to have Dorota make an appointment with Madam Lee to get them done ASAP. COB, if possible.

The second was that I was certainly not wearing silk, and everyone knows that I don't sleep in anything other than silk. That alone was enough to cause emotional trauma. The next was that my right hand felt extremely warm. Like hot. Like there was another person's skin pressed to it.

I blinked and instantly realized that I was in a hospital room.

For the love! Honestly!

Well… it _was_ nice. A private wing. Mauve walls. Eww. Loads of flowers and teddies and balloons. I felt so very loved in that moment that I was overwhelmed with emotion. I wondered which bouquet was from my beloved Nate. I scanned the room and spotted his the moment I saw it. It was luscious, sophisticated, tasteful and said 'I love you' with every opening bud. My heart swelled. He must be worried sick, I thought to myself at the time. He must've spent hours – days – weeks in a silent vigil by my bed. Unable to shave, to sleep, to eat as he watched his beloved in a hospital bed, badly injured from… from something very drastic and heart wrenching, but that made me look beautiful – like a sleeping princess.

My heart swelled with love for him as I imagined that this would bring us closer than ever. He would know now for sure I was the one he was to marry, the one he would love for the rest of his life. And I would be the very best girlfriend that I could be.

I could almost feel the Vanderbilt ring slipping onto my finger… Oh, finger. That's when things began to go wrong. Just wrong.

The head resting on my own, clutching it like life depended on it was…not blond enough. I racked my mind to think if Nate had done something _funny_ to his hair, but I couldn't think of anything.

I shifted, trying to alert him of my presence (so he could take me into his strong and manly arms, kiss my forehead, and tell me he loved me over and over again as his voice cracked from the weeks, most likely months, of worry).

He did shift, and I sighed, closing my eyes.

I wanted to look like the perfect sleeping beauty. I wanted him to kiss me, and then I would flutter my eyelids and wake. Magically. It would be ever so romantic.

I loved him so much.

I hope I had my Dior mascara on.

I felt him wake, I heard him stand, and then I felt it. His fingers brushing against my face. My fluttering excitement took over me, and I waited until his lips would brush mine. I was living my own fairytale. It was breathtaking.

His face was ever so close. My heart caught at my throat. That's when I felt it. Wetness on my face.

OH MY GOD.

Was he _crying_? I was going to pass out. I knew I was.

The emotion was overwhelming, life was just happening so fast. I didn't know what to say.

That's when he kissed me.

It was a soft butterfly kiss, but the emotion and power behind it was so intense that I felt all the hairs in my arm stand to attention, my toes spread, and a deep moan that I could not control erupted from my throat.

When the hell had he learned to kiss like this?

I felt my world crashing, and I knew whatever this was, it meant to be because one's body does not respond like that to mere kisses.

My eyes fluttered opened.

The eyes that met mine were a shock, to say the least.

"I love you."

OH MY EFFFING GOD.

There before me was Chuck Bass. Chuck fucking Bass. Not my boyfriend. Not my love. Not my prince charming. But syphilis-carrying Chuck Bass whose leering looks I had avoided since the 4th grade. Chuck Bass: player extraordinaire, devious plotting bastard that was known to bang everything in sight. Sure, we'd had some decent conversations, but nothing to provoke this kiss and much less – much, much, less – to provoke this apparently heartfelt confession of love.

"Chuck?" Was all I managed to stupidly say.

"I love you," he repeated, and his voice was so low and raspy and … real, that I couldn't think of anything else to say. Scratch that. I couldn't think of anything at all.

So you understand how everything started going the wrong way all too quickly.

--

When I didn't respond to this unexpected and unwelcome declaration of love, he quickly told me he would get the doctor.

So I sat for only a few minutes by myself. I was still shaking and deeply disturbed by what has just happened. Chuck Bass loved me.

Oh, my God.

Chuck Bass _loved_ me. He said it. Twice. With his mouth. From his lips. With his eyes.

Oh, my God. _And_ he had kissed me. Was it considered cheating? Would Chuck and Nate fight over me in the streets of New York… Hopefully in the rain?

This was just… And Nate! How could the asshole live with himself? Ugh!

Where _was _Nate?

My thoughts were disturbed when a doctor entered (yes, the inept one) and began asking me questions. A couple of nurses huddled over me, and I tried to answer how I felt. That's when I saw _him_ once more, standing by the door, his eyes wide and fearful and … worried.

I couldn't look at him. I just couldn't.

Where was Nate? I was starting to get angry. This is so not like what I dreamt it would be.

Where was my mother?

The doctor told me I was fine, a bit of a concussion that had placed me into a coma.

A coma!

This was so _Days of Our Lives_.

Chuck shifted, looking even more worried. But he really surprised me when he started making demands of the doctor on my behalf. That's when I started noticing some things were different on Chuck.

He was taller, for one. His hair was longer and combed to the side, and he carried himself differently. He looked… older. This was so strange. How long had I been asleep? I apparently said this out loud because the doctor and Chuck turned to me.

"Five days," Chuck answered.

I stared at him, then looked away.

The doctor mentioned that they would keep me for a few more days of observation, but I could go home afterwards.

That is when no other than my estranged best friend burst through the door.

"Blair!" She cried, and I saw something that caught my attention. When she brushed past Chuck, there was a sense of familiarity. She had grasped his hands, and they had shared a look. Then he had placed a hand on her back, moving her towards me.

"Oh, B! We've been so worried!" Serena was by my side in an instant.

I remembered I was not happy with her. She had just decided to show up and we were going to go back to being friends?

Her hair _did_ look nice. She continued chatting, going on and on about how they had looked for me and hadn't been able to find me, but a person addicted to socialite newspapers had seen the picture of me and Chuck in US and had brought me to a hospital.

_I _was in Us? With Chuck? I told her I didn't remember that. I didn't remember being with Chuck with a photographer nearby.

The doctor assured us that I would remember bits and pieces.

That's when I realized he was inept.

I told him so, and Chuck smiled, which felt better since Chuck is usually amused by my bitchy comments.

The nurses and doctors left us and then it was just Serena, Chuck, and myself.

I was angry at Serena, but I felt even more uncomfortable with Chuck who continued to walk around as if he himself had had all the flowers sent here.

"Where's Nate?" I finally ask.

I noticed Chuck stiffen, as he should. I mean, he kissed his best friend's comatose girlfriend and confessed he loved her. Twice. He should have been brimming with guilt.

"He sent a teddy," Serena replied, and there was an odd look on her face. She also looked older.

God, what _was_ going on around here?

A teddy. He sent a fucking teddy?

"No flowers?" I asked, and I knew my face was falling. I didn't want to talk about this to Serena, because I didn't trust her and she had abandoned me. But the only other person was Chuck, and he had kissed me.

Something will always be off from now on.

Serena looked confused. Why? Because she thought Nate would only send _her_ flowers?

"He's in Connecticut with his grandparents, left the day before yesterday – plus the whole thing with Vanessa and Jenny got out of control. He needed to get away," Serena explained, and I noticed Chuck getting more and more agitated.

Wait. Who the _hell_ were Vanessa and Jenny?

"Who?" I demanded.

"Vanessa… you know, Vanessa." Serena answered.

"No. I don't know a Vanessa. Oh, you mean Vanessa Plyatt?" I was getting angrier, because obviously no one was making any bit of sense.

"No, Abrams!" Serena looked exasperated. "Anyways, your mom's plane got stuck in Tokyo because of that storm. She's called nearly everyday. Chuck's calmed her down."

I glanced at Chuck. He was staring at me intensely, and I had to look away because I could still feel the heat of his kiss on my lips. He and Nate were so over. I planned on confessing the whole thing the moment Nate came back from… Connecticut.

I felt so unloved. Nate knew I was sick – that I was in the hospital, and he couldn't even come see me. I felt like crying. Like sobbing and possibly stomping my foot.

"Where's Dorota?" I asked, looking sadly at the teddies in the room, wondering which of them was from Nate, and why I wasn't clutching it.

"She'll be back. I made her go home and get some sleep." It was Chuck that answered.

I'm downright annoyed now. Who does he think he is? Sitting by my bed, holding my hand, kissing me, telling me… Telling me things he shouldn't be telling his best friend's girlfriend. Ordering my maid around? Ugh.

"Would you excuse us?" I sneered at him.

He looked taken aback and there was a hint of raw pain in his eyes which I refused to acknowledge.

"Fine," he snapped and walks out.

I sighed and turned to Serena. I _supposed _she would have to do. I had to tell someone.

"B, you can't be mad at him forever. He hasn't left your side," Serena told me.

"He told me he loved me," I blurted out and instantly regretted it because Serena and I were no longer the BFF's that we used to be. I mean, she left and just came back, and she expects me to confess things to her?

But Serena's reaction was not what I expected.

"Oh, my God!" She was …._squealing._ Like with joy. "I'm so excited!"

What the hell?

"I mean, this is perfect, right? It's what you've been waiting for," She continuesd, and I was now sure the peroxide had invaded her brain.

Waiting for? Why the hell would I want Chuck Bass to be in love with me? Ugh.

She saw the confusion on my face.

"You do still love him, right? I mean – a week ago you told me." She said, and I was sure I had woken up in an alternative universe.

"What are you talking about? You weren't here a week ago!" I started screaming because no one was making sense.

She looked at me, startled.

"B… what's the last thing you remember?" She asked cautiously.

I took a deep breath because I was sure I was hyper ventilating.

"I… You crashed my mom's party… And you were back, and Gossip Girl had posted about it… And Nate didn't want to have sex with me." I whispered.

Her eyes widened.

"Oh… Blair." Her face fell and she looked desperately sad. "B, that happened over a year ago."

--

The doctor spoke, but I could only stare at his lips. He was using big words that were just meant to upset me even more. I wanted to call him every insulting name I had come to know in my short life.

I knew my breathing was coming quicker, I knew it was coming faster, and I was pretty sure I would hurt him at any given moment.

"Give her a breather."

My head snapped up as I realized Chuck had been staring at me intently and could tell that I was about to have a breakdown. I looked away from him, and I knew he was hurt by the way his jaw twitched.

The doctor left, and Chuck shifted, not knowing what to do. Then he finally stormed out. Serena and Dorota were the only ones left, and I began crying because I hated this feeling of overwhelming loneliness that had taken over me.

I felt Serena's arms around me and, deep inside, I wanted to shove her off because I didn't even know who my best friend was anymore. I hated that she was back, and I hated even more that we had apparently bonded for over a year, but I had no memory of it.

I hated that Nate wasn't here. I hated that Chuck kept staring at me _that way_, and I hated—I hated that I was so alone and no one would ever understand.

--

The doctor advised my 'friends & family' that I shouldn't be bombarded with information. That it was best I take it easy. They ran a few tests on me, which resulted in me just getting more and more upset and wanting to be left alone.

The doctor said I should write things down. That a lot of people find it useful. Like a diary. I ignored him and wished he would disappear.

I was sitting in my room by myself when I once more noticed the flowers that I previously thought were from Nate. I reached out and grabbed the little card stuck on them.

It was a nice card. A tasteful card.

_Blair_. It read. I sighed.

_I'm sorry. _

_Love, _

_Chuck_.

In a fit of anger, I crumpled the little letter up, made it into a ball, and threw it across the room.

I sat steaming for another hour before a soft knock interrupted my thoughts and Chuck walked in. He was dressed more presentably than what I had seen him in lately. It looked like he'd been living out of the hospital before.

His hair was combed, his clothes were pressed, and he looked like he had shaved.

It was also the first time we had been alone together since he woke me with a kiss. And confessed he loved me. _Apparently_ I was supposed to swoon over this. I was lucky I didn't remember.

"Hey," he said, and I instantly noticed he was timid.

I said nothing and looked away.

He walked in with a little bag in hand and a serious expression on his face.

"Doctor says they're letting you go tomorrow," he said quietly.

I took a deep breath. "Apparently."

He took a seat next to me, and I saw him staring at me once more.

"Can you not look at me like that?" I snapped.

"Like what?" He countered.

"Like you've seen me naked," I hissed.

"I _have_ seen you naked," he smirked. I _swear_ to God I will hurt him.

I will hurt him. I will kill him, destroy him – annihilate him.

A thought occurred to me just then, and the curiosity was so very grand that I forgot I hated him.

"Am I… Am I still a virgin?" I asked, knowing I was asking the right person because if anyone knows the status of V-cards, it's Chuck Bass.

I saw something cross over his face – something I had never seen before, but it was very real. He covered it up quickly and his trademark nonchalant look took over his features once more.

He opened his mouth to speak, but decided against it.

"I brought you a present," he whispered as he placed the bag on my bed. I stared at it. He was dodging my questions.

That's when I knew I was no longer a virgin. I had forgotten my first time.

That magical moment when Nate held me and we whispered 'I love you.' In a candlelight room wearing my best lingerie.

I was so angry, I was so angry I was shaking.

"Open it," he encouraged, and I decided to do it before I burst into tears in front of Chuck Bass.

I looked down.

"It's a book," I said simply.

I would have expected many presents from Chuck Bass, but never a book.

Perhaps some condoms. Handcuffs. A naked picture of Jessica Simpson.

Not a book. Never a book.

He shifted, as if he knew this was a gift he would never give.

"The doctor said you may want to start writing things down, so I got you a journal. Like a diary."

I stared at him.

Who the hell was this person?

I stared at the journal. Camel leather with beautiful designs scripted on it, on the back there were butterflies. Handmade – spared no expense. I opened it, and inside he had left an inscription.

_Hopefully one day, you'll remember._

I knew it was his handwriting, but there was no name.

"Oh, and there's a pen." He pulled a long box with a white ribbon from his coat pocket.

His throat was working, and he wasn't meeting my eyes as I mechanically took the box from him and slipped the ribbon off. Inside, there was a beautiful fountain pen. It had my initials carved on it in elegant script letters.

I stared at the journal and the pen.

He took a breath and stood up.

"Right, I know you have a lot to take in." he said softly.

I wanted to thank him because in all honestly it was the loveliest gift anyone had ever given me. It was thoughtful, personal, romantic, and it was screaming 'I love you' from all over the place.

It was a present I wished Nate had given me.

I sensed him leaving, his shoulders sagging in defeat.

"Chuck?" I finally asked.

He stopped and turned, and I could see his eyes shining with hope.

"When did it become you and me and not me and Nate?"

I saw his throat working again. His jaw twitching. His hands clenching.

He said nothing; he revealed nothing. I was hurting him.

"Goodnight, Blair." He turned and walked out.

I was angry. I was upset. This was not the way it was supposed to be. This was wrong. But no matter how many times I shook myself awake, I couldn't snap out of this nightmare.

I opened the journal and glared at the blank page before me.

_Dear life. I __hate__ Chuck Bass._

And that's how it all started.

--

To be continued


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 2** of _Dear Life, I Hate Chuck Bass_

Author: Isabelle

Rating: PG-13

Summary: When Blair wakes, the last thing she can remember is falling asleep the night Serena came back to New York. But apparently it's 18 months later. She's no longer Nate's girlfriend, Serena is remorseful, and Chuck Bass… is in love with her.

Disclaimer: I do not own Gossip Girl.

A/N: Thank you to Tati, my super BETA!!

--

_The past is never dead, it is not even past._

_William Faulkner_

Dear Reader,

I hope that by now you understand how very upset I am with life. Life just absolutely low-balled me and is now getting back at me for all those times I criticized Christy McHelney's uniform (in all fairness, it is atrocious).

So here I am, sitting in my room a couple of days later. Everyone acts shifty around me, as if they're afraid they'll tell me too much. What no one seems to be able to tell me is why Nate is no longer the doting boyfriend he's always been.

I decided to do my own investigative work. I started in my closet, where I found nothing particular except for a lot of beads, purple, and ruffles. I took note of the fact that they must be in style.

I sat at my laptop and typed in my password.

_IloveNate4ever_

Wrong password.

I glared at the screen.

I've had the same password since 6th grade.

I took a deep breath.

_IloveChuck4ever_

Wrong password. (yay!!)

I smirked.

_IhateChuck4ever_

It worked!!

I did a little dance.

I _knew_ I hated him regardless of how thoughtful his gifts were.

I started perusing my PC and finally found my pictures. Life could be captured in pictures and that was why I loved them.

A folder named 'The Devil' stood out and I clicked on it. Bingo.

Oh, no.

I stared at the first photo.

Apparently the Devil Chuck Bass.

The devil smirking. The devil on my bed. The devil at a party.

What was this little obsession of mine? This would have to be remedied ASAP. COB, if possible.

That's when 'The Devil & Me' pictures began.

Some of them were old: we were in middle school. I smiled fondly because they were TTBK (aka. The Time Before the Kiss). I enjoyed the TTBK pictures a lot. We looked happy, relaxed, and naughty. That's when the WTF pictures began. WTF meaning 'I don't remember, and why the hell is this happening to me?'

The first WTF picture: he was holding the camera and I was laughing. He was looking very serious in all of his Chuck Bass glory. We were in our uniforms on my bed. We had sweaters on—I assumed it was during the holiday time. The time stamp said early December. Of last year.

Oh, Lord.

How long had this mess been going on for?

I clicked through more of that day. I will never admit it anywhere but in this journal, but we kinda maybe sorta (in a galaxy far far away) looked cute. He was mostly serious and staring at me the same way he's always stared at me, but in this new time, this WTF era, I could see a different shadow in his eyes.

I breezed through them quickly because the pictures were making me uncomfortable. That was when I stopped, because it was a wedding. Wedding pictures!

Oh… Lily and Bart.

That meant Chuck and Serena… Oh. That explained their familiarity with one another. I assumed Serena would've ignored him. I guess they're kinda friends now.

I looked lovely in my dress, and he looked…. Ok. So maybe he's handsome. Not as handsome as Nate, but handsome. In that weird 'I'll rape you and you'll like it' way.

And…Odd.

The picture showed us sharing a table, his arm is draped over mine, and we're smiling at the camera. Then another one of him saying something and me staring at him, amused.

A slow burning sensation started in my stomach. I looked so… Ugh.

I closed my laptop and stared at it.

No.

No.

No.

I slowly opened it.

Oh, God. I looked… I looked in love.

This is so _wrong_.

I cannot. I simply cannot, under any conditions, be in love with Chuck Bass.

This is bad.

I hastily went to the next set of pictures and things didn't get better. Instead, there was a folder. The folder was titled _FBEO_.

I knew what FBEO meant. I made it up myself. In 6th grade.

'For Blair's Eyes Only'.

It was usually password protected.

I took a breath and typed my usual password.

_IloveNate4ever_

It didn't work.

_IhateChuck4ever_

It didn't work.

I glared at the screen.

_IloveChuck4ever_

It worked and I felt sick.

Not as sick as when I finally saw the pictures.

OMFG.

Nude pictures. Sex pictures. I mean, they were tasteful but still…

I gasp.

Pictures of me… and of _him._

Oh, my God.

Oh, wow… he's nicely endowed, isn't he?

But that's not the point! The point is that… I've had _sex_ with Chuck fucking Bass.

I screamed as loud as my lungs could manage and closed my laptop to grab my phone.

I dialed Serena. I still hated her. But I needed to ask _someone_.

"B?"

"Did we have sex?" I demanded.

"Y-you and me?" She asked, clearly confused.

I grimaced. "No! Me and Chuck!"

"Humm... didn't the doctor-"

"Did we?" I, of course, knew the answer, but I could pretend these were horrible Photoshop manipulations for a minute.

"Yes," she answered. "You lost your virginity to him."

I felt sick. Like I swallowed a sea anemone.

"I have to go," I whispered and hung up.

I stared off into nothingness for a minute. My life was shit. I'd let my life go to shit.

How could I have let this happen? When did this happen? When did things get so very bad that I had to lower myself to fall into the arms of Chuck Bass?

I couldn't breathe. I needed… air. I needed to… I stared at my toilet.

I swallowed.

It had been a while since I'd done it. One more time couldn't truly hurt.

That's what I told myself. That's what I said. When I was finished, I wished I didn't feel so weak. But I felt weak. Weakness was the feeling taking over my body and soul. I felt lost, alone, and weak.

I struggled to my phone and dialed an all-too familiar number.

I waited and, finally, he picked up.

"Blair?"

I sighed because his voice sounded so very familiar and real. I closed my eyes.

"Nate?" I whispered.

"Are you ok?" He asked.

I wanted to laugh at that particular statement because I was so far from Ok that it wasn't even funny.

"You haven't come to see me," I said.

He sighed. "I know. I'm sorry. I sent you a gift."

I stared at the teddy. It was generic.

"Thank you," I said.

"You're welcome." He said and his voice was starting to feel generic, too.

"Nate?" I paused. "Why did we break up?"

He was silent, and I could tell he was clearly uncomfortable. "Blair… I…"

"Please," I begged.

"Serena said-"

"I don't care what Serena said!" I snapped. "I need to know why you're not here with me, why Serena is here, and why, out of all people, Chuck Bass is confessing he loves me."

"That's something you have to ask him, not me," he replied.

"Nate!" I cried. "Aren't you angry at him? Don't you want to fight for me?"

He let out a semi-bitter laugh. "That's in the past."

"Tell me," I demanded. "You need to."

"About why we broke up?" He asked, and I could tell he was clearly agitated.

"Yes," I replied.

"The first or the second time?" He demanded.

My heart beat faster. "Take it from the top."

"First time? I slept with Serena."

The floor gave out under my feet.

"And I couldn't let it go… And it was all wrong… I just couldn't love you the way you needed me to." His voice dipped lower. "And don't be mad at Serena. You spent a good amount of time upset at her already. You fought, you embarrassed everyone, including yourself, and now it's over."

I felt tears dribbling down my cheeks. He was so nonchalant about it! As if all the years we spent together meant nothing to him.

"So… that was the first," he breathed. "The second?" He laughed. "Yeah. The second… the second I find out you screwed my best friend."

I closed my eyes, laying my head on the mattress.

"So… it's been kinda over for a while," Nate finished.

I was outright crying at this point.

"Blair… please don't cry," he said. "Jesus, Blair. You don't even love _me_ anymore."

"I do!" I rebuffed.

"You don't!" He insisted. "And I'm not in love with you. I don't think I've been in love with you for years."

I was shaking. I was shaking because life was bad and horrible.

"You're in love with Chuck. Chuck's in love with you," He explained. "Once you remember, you'll feel better."

I yelled. "I don't want to remember! What if I never do, and I spend the rest of my life in love with you?"

"Blair… I really hope you do. I do," He said, and there was a finality in his voice. "Because he's going to love you for the rest of his life."

And the conversation was over.

And I was shaking as I stared at the phone.

--

Evening was approaching when the elevator signaled the arrival of a visitor.

"I don't want to see anyone, Dorota!" I yelled down to my maid.

The intruder ignored Dorota's words and came right on up. I hoped it would be Serena. I felt like yelling.

It wasn't.

I glared at the intruder.

"You're not welcome here," I snapped.

He studied me.

"You've been crying," he remarked and walked in easily, sitting on the bed.

My nostrils flared, and I grabbed my laptop away from him before he could see what was on it.

"Why are you here?" I asked icily.

Maybe he would get discouraged. Give up. Find an easy lay.

Ugh.

"I missed you," he replied, continuing to stare at me with those eyes.

I looked away because I remembered the photos.

"Nate said you called him," he said, and I could instantly tell he was not happy. He was… _jealous_.

This perked me up a bit. "I did."

His eyes narrowed. "You did."

"Yes. I missed hearing his voice," I stabbed, and I could see it physically hurt him. Good. Let him leave. Let him give up on me, then Nate wouldn't feel so guilty and I could work on my plan to get him back.

His nostrils flared. "Threw yourself at him, did you?"

I held my chin high. There was no need to confess anything.

He nodded slowly.

"Let me give you a hint." He whispered, low and wispy.

I swallowed.

"The reason he took you back. The reason he wanted you was because you looked… happier. Free and so 'Un-Blair-Like'."

I reeled back.

"And you know why I know?" He came closer, and I could smell his cologne. "Because he didn't know about _us_. So he confided in his best friend."

I felt tears probing at my eyes.

"And you know who brought out that shiny, happy Blair? Me." He pointed at himself.

I felt like hitting him. Who did he think he was?

"Don't you _forget_ that."

We stared at each other for a minute, and then he turned and left.

My life has no rhyme. No reason.

I decided changes needed to be made.

For starters Chuck Bass _is_ the devil, just like I predicted.

So…

Step 1. Eliminate Chuck Bass. Operation Chuck Bass exorcism begins now.

Step 2. Bitch-slap Serena.

Step 3. Get Nate back.

I wrote them all down and smile, pleased at myself.

I will take control of my life. I will eliminate the vermin (aka. Chuck fucking Bass), and I will get my life back.

That's when I was hit with a wonderful idea.

Gossip Girl! Why didn't I think of this before??

I quickly opened my laptop and closed the sex-screen. I got online and I found my favorite site easily.

All entries were tagged. Who was on the front page? Me!

Oh, no.

_Spotted: B heading home after accident. My, how the mighty have fallen!_

I glared and clicked on 'Blair Waldorf,' and all entries with that tag were sorted.

I read about my hospital stay, my accident and my being missing… and then BINGO!

Oh…

There was a picture of Chuck and I at a party, we were… We were arguing. He looked furious. I looked furious, and then he was walking away. My face was pure and unadulterated distress. I looked broken.

I gasped.

I remembered the card that came with the flowers.

_I'm sorry_, it had read.

He was sorry.

What happened? What happened that night that got us angry enough to obviously hurt each other?

My plan was easily forgotten as intrigue burned in me. I glanced at the phone, and I quickly dialed his number.

"Yes?" He answered.

"Dinner." I told him.

"Dinner?" He asked, clearly surprised.

"Yes. In 30 minutes. Don't be late," I replied.

"Why? I thought you were busy degrading yourself as you ran after Nathaniel," he said.

"One chance, Chuck." I said, looking down at our picture. "I hate to think you'd throw that away. Again."

He was quiet and I knew I'd hit a nerve. A big one.

"30 minutes, and I'm picking."

I smiled, satisfied, as I close the phone.

I stared at the pictures.

Before the night is over, I will know what we were fighting about. I will use it to show him how very wrong we are for each other and how he needs to let me go.

Step 1.

_Dear life, I __will__ hate Chuck Bass._

--

To be continued


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 3** of _Dear Life, I Hate Chuck Bass_

Author: Isabelle

Rating: PG-13

Summary: When Blair wakes, the last thing she can remember is falling asleep the night Serena came back to New York. But apparently it's 18 months later. She's no longer Nate's girlfriend, Serena is remorseful, and Chuck Bass… is in love with her.

Disclaimer: I do not own Gossip Girl.

A/N – My BETA, Tati, deserves an award because she BETAs super fast and never complains. Love her!

--

"_Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—  
__I took the one less traveled by,  
__And that has made all the difference."  
__Robert Frost_

My mother thought it wise to get me a shrink.

What?

You want to hear about my 'date' with Chuck Bass?

Well, you'll have to wait. It's my story, and I'm telling it. No journal will glare at me, no matter how pretty the cover is.

Her name is Magnolia Fiore. _Dr._ Magnolia Fiore. Honestly, who names their child Magnolia? _And_ expects her not to grow up with issues. No wonder she's a shrink.

She's an older woman, late 50's, perfect blonde coif, and signs of a UES trophy wife written all over her botoxed face.

"Blair," she began pleasantly. "I know it must be very frustrating to have no memory of the last year."

No shit.

"I also imagine it must be quite lonely," She added calmly.

I rolled my eyes. My mother sent me to a shrink when my 'condition' came to her attention. I also got sent to a shrink when my father left us for another man. I've seen quite a lot of shrinks.

"Why don't we see this as a chat? A chat between you and me," She said as she fixed her glasses. "Tell me some of the things you're thinking about right now."

I took a breath. I know this game. Survive the 60 minutes and I'm home free.

"I feel very distraught and unable to cope with the possibility of never gaining my memory. I feel lost and alone and full of fear. Throw some feelings of abandonment from my mother and father, a complexity of insecurities, and the inability to cope, hatred of change, and you've got Blair Waldorf."

She stared me down for a minute then took off her glasses.

"When I was 27, I walked in on my husband fucking my best friend. My best friend happened to be a guy and also my first boyfriend. When I was 32, I was in such a bad accident that I will forever walk with a limp. And when I turned 44, my son was killed in plane crash." She took a breath. "So. Top that."

She placed her glasses back on her nose.

_Seriously_ messed up.

"My ex-boyfriend, whom I love, left me. I had sex with his best friend, my own best friend had sex with my ex boyfriend and is now the step sister of his best friend, who is the guy I lost my virginity to. Said guy now loves me, and I can't avoid him because apparently, I was in love with him, too," I rocked back. "Oh, and my dad's gay, so I totally get the husband thing."

She hides a smile.

"Good, now that we got over our introductions, why don't we talk about yesterday? What did you do yesterday?" She asked. The poor woman didn't realize that she had just opened a can of worms the size of Texas.

"I went on a date with a guy," I told her.

"Do you like him?" She asked.

"He's the one I lost my virginity to. Though I don't remember," I explained.

She nodded.

"Is he hot?" She cocked her head.

I ponder this then nod.

"So was my ex-boyfriend," I remarked.

"The one that left you?" She asked.

I nodded.

"But you still love him?"

I nodded.

"What was the last memory you had of him?" She inquired.

I swallowed.

"He pulled away when we were about to do it for the first time." I remembered.

Her wood floors needed refinishing.

"Ahhh." She said softly.

I didn't talk for the rest of the hour because, diary, talking sometimes is a waste of perfectly good saliva.

--

What does a girl wear for a date with Chuck Bass? This, of course, is something I've never had to contemplate because I've had the same boyfriend since I remember being able to coordinate outfits.

Chuck is nothing like Nate.

Nate notices that I look pretty. Attractive. Well put together. Chuck will not only notice, but comment on my neckline and go as far as classifying as either flattering or puritanical. So it's a bit trickier to dress for Chuck Bass. Not that I was dressing for him.

He arrived 37 minutes late.

I glowered at him because I had been rushing and then had to wait seven whole minutes.

He carried no flowers, had a bored expression on his face, and didn't comment on my dress.

"Hurry up, I'm hungry," he snapped and walked to the elevator.

I glared at the back of his head.

--

"I don't eat steak," I told him as I looked over the menu.

"I know," he replied, not looking at the menu, but instead twirling the glass of Syrah in his hand.

"Do you know what you want already?" I asked, attempting to make conversation because he was in an awful mood.

"Yes," he said.

I glared at him.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" I snapped.

"Nothing," he replied, and I fumed because it was going to be harder than ever to attempt to extract the secret from him.

"I'll have the flounder," I stated with finality.

"Mistake," He said and took an inconspicuous slurp from his wine.

My nostrils flared. "Why?"

He shrugged. "You don't come to an Argentinean steakhouse and have _flounder_."

"I told you, I don't eat steak," I snapped. "If you _knew_ this, you wouldn't bring me here."

"You love this place," he said.

"I hate this place," I growled. This is was the worst first date ever.

He chuckled, staring at his wine.

"Last time we came, you had the lamb," he said easily.

"We?" I glowered skeptically.

He finally met my eyes. "Yes. And _we_ had a great time."

I shifted. The waiter came and before I could open my mouth and order the flounder, Chuck ordered the lamb for me and the filet mignon for himself.

"I wanted flounder," I hissed once the waiter was gone.

"But you'll like the lamb," he assured me.

I decided to hate the lamb.

Ok. I loved the lamb. It was fantastic. I hate him, and I told him this with my eyes as I devoured the lamb.

I stopped at ten bites. Ten bites. I started multiplying the calories.

My hips are large enough as it is, and if I continue at this rate, I'll be reduced to purchasing pants with elastic waistbands.

He stared at my food and then at me. He sighed and leaned back.

"What?" I snapped.

"You've had ten bites," He commented.

I stared at my lamb and then at him.

"I'm not that hungry," I said defensively, looking around the room.

He leaned forward. "Blair."

I stared at him, entranced for a moment by his eyes.

"Don't play that game with me," He said and my mind stopped working.

I swallowed.

"I'm not Nathaniel, and I will notice when you stop eating because you think your hips are too big."

I paled and looked away.

This is not right; he has no right whatsoever to know me like this; it's intrusive, violating and downright mean.

"Chuck-"

"So eat," he snapped. "I happen to like your hips just the way they are, and maybe meatier."

I stared at him for a moment as he happily continued eating his own steak. My hands were slow, but I finally picked my fork back up and finished my meal (even the mashed potatoes with the smooth gravy). I still hated him, of course, but now I stared at him a bit more.

I was just studying the enemy that was all.

--

I wanted to rush home because his presence was making me uncomfortable. And he held doors open for me. And he placed his hand on my back, guiding me.

And when we stepped out of the restaurant and into his limo, two photographers snapped pictures of us.

"This is new," I said as he slipped next to me in the limo.

"Yeah," he stated and looked away. "It's been like that ever since we were featured in US."

He looked depressed.

I sighed. He had been absolutely depressed all night.

"What is wrong with you?" I finally asked.

He stopped ignoring me for a moment to finally look at me.

"I miss Blair," he confessed.

Something odd happened to my throat then.

"I-I'm right here," I stated.

He studied me and let out a small laugh. "You're not _my_ Blair."

This sent an odd sort of chill up and down my arms, and I remembered the pictures on my laptop. The happy, smiling Blair, carefree and in love with the man in front of me.

"What if she never comes back?" I asked, and I was afraid of the answer.

He looked so very sad then, so very destroyed. His mouth opened and closed.

"Do you know why we fought?" He asked distantly.

I was still for a moment. Absolutely stock-still. I certainly hadn't expected a confession. I had expected months of investigative social work.

He was not looking at me; he was off in a memory.

"You had a pregnancy scare," He said, his eyes misty.

I swallowed.

"And I was angry… because…" He took a deep breath. "Because you should know better, you should've been on the pill like I thought you were… Because the last woman to give birth to a Bass died at childbirth, and I was scared."

Diary, I don't know what to feel. How does one cope with such a confession? In my mind I had thought that we had fought over an affair, over a jealousy attack, over something trivial and superficial that would prove we weren't really in love. That Chuck was just temporarily attached.

Not this. Never this.

Chuck has always been this impressive person in my life who was never hurt, never deterred, and never attached. He breezed through life, scotch in hand, random girl at hip, smile on lips and a leering eye.

When I closed the door to my room, I began crying. Not for Nate this time, but for Chuck. For Chuck and I, because our story had turned into an unexpectedly sad one.

I decided to pull out my laptop then, and once more stared at our pictures. The happy ones.

The ones in which I looked like I was in love.

There are more, dated after the wedding. In one, I'm touching his face because he looks comfortable with his shoes off and laying on my bed.

Dear life, _why_ Chuck Bass?

--

"I think Chuck's really in love with me, and I don't feel the same. It's very confusing," I told Dr. Fiore in our next session.

"What's confusing?" She asked, staring at me. "If you don't feel anything towards him, there should be no confusion."

I let out a breath. "Yes, but you don't know the way he looks at me… And the things he does, and the memories of _us_ that he carries."

"Are you… _feeling_ something towards him?" She asked.

"No!" I snapped all too quickly, and I noticed that she noticed. "No," I said in a calmer voice. "It's just that… well… He's always been my friend and during the year that Serena was away, we did become closer."

"So he's a friend. In your mind," She scribbled. I tried to see what she had written.

"Yes," I said dismissively. "And it'll stay that way, especially after my plan to get Nate back is set in place."

"The plan to capture a guy who pushed you away and slept with your best fried?" She asked, eyebrows raised.

She obviously doesn't understand the depth of our love.

--

Diary, I have been avoiding going back to school like the plague. I even tried to acquire strep throat. Apparently I'm immune.

I finally saw my mother, and she glanced at my hips.

"You look healthy," she commented.

I approached school apprehensively, because I didn't know the current social standing. Serena was no help, and Gossip Girl was focused on my recovery. I sensed people looking at me, and I continued walking with my head held high.

That's when I spotted Nate. My heart leapt when I notice he was standing with Chuck.

_Of course_ he was standing with Chuck. Nate and Chuck always stand together. Chuck stopped talking and stared at me. Nate noticed and turned.

My heart beat faster, and I sighed because I'd missed him so much. He hadn't even called again to see how I was doing.

I took a breath and headed over there with the excuse of saying hello.

"Nate!" I said happily. Chuck rolled his eyes and walked away, shoulders slumped. I attempted to ignore him, but Nate's hard glare was not helping.

"Blair., He greeted me stiffly.

"You haven't stopped by. How's Anne?" I knew I was being too perky, but I was trying. I was trying to be ever so nice. The perfect girlfriend.

Nate just stared at me, his brows furrowed. Confused. Had he always been this confused?

"What?" I asked defensively.

He shook his head. "You've hardly been civil to me in months."

I let out a breath. "We'll, I'm the new Blair," I smiled angelically. "And I thought maybe we could do dinner."

He opened and closed his mouth.

"Like old times." Except it was current time for me.

"No," he answered. "I'm sorry, but no. Bad idea. I'm glad you're doing better, I really am. Bye, Blair."

He shifted and walked away, leaving me alone and depressed.

--

Chuck found me, diary. He found me hiding during lunch under a tree and shivering in my coat.

He didn't say a word. Nothing at all. Which was strange enough as it was because Chuck Bass is a well known motor mouth.

"Want to skip?" He asked after a while.

I stared at him. His head was bent, that damn scarf was around his neck, and he was smoking.

"I have to catch up. I've missed a week," I told him.

"Like you're even listening to anything in the classroom."

He did have a point.

"Where will we go?" I asked him, still looking over him doubtfully.

He tucked his scarf around his neck, and I studied it. He took a breath.

"Fuck what Serena says. Fuck what the doctor says – he's inept, anyway," I stared at him. "I'll take you back to the beginning."

I swallowed.

"C'mon, let's take it from the top." His voice dripped with something raw and sexual. Something foreign.

I had a moment, diary. I had an option. I was Robert Frost and Chuck's outreached hand was a path. I debated what was before me. I could stay behind. Implement my plan, get my life back. Yet, when I thought back on that life, what did I really have?

Missing parents, distant, un-loving boyfriend, lost best friend, and an inability to be happy in my own skin.

I had an option.

I wanted to recoil. I wanted to huff and walk away, reminding him of exactly who I was.

But a part of me. A small and very vocal part of me wondered… dreamed a little. Was a little bit curious why this man before me had changed so very much since the last time we crossed words. How this man could be wracked with guilt over a silly fight.

Then suddenly, that little part became bigger and bigger. And it was in that moment, his hand outstretched, my legs shivering, and my thoughts racing, that I slowly reached out, slowly risked it. Slowly let go.

Because a part of me was a little bit in love with that happy girl in those pictures.

So, dear life, I went with him.

A girl's got to live a little.

--

To be continued

A/N - Thank you very much for all the feedback, guys! I'm glad you're enjoying the story!


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 4** of _Dear Life, I Hate Chuck Bass_

Author: Isabelle

Rating: PG-13

Summary: When Blair wakes, the last thing she can remember is falling asleep the night Serena came back to New York. But apparently it's 18 months later. She's no longer Nate's girlfriend, Serena is remorseful, and Chuck Bass… is in love with her.

Disclaimer: I do not own Gossip Girl.

A/N – My BETA, Tati, deserves an award because she BETAs super fast and never complains. Love her!

--

"_There is not any memory with less satisfaction  
__than the memory of some temptation we resisted."  
__James Branch Cabell_

The moment he looked at me from his end of the limo, something warm and familiar came over me. My eyes brightened, and he noticed. He instantly noticed.

"Blair?" He asked.

A small smile played over my face.

"Something… is familiar," I said carefully, looking around the limo I had ridden in many times in my life.

He sat up and stared at me, hopeful. I glanced at him.

"What happened here?"

He stared at me, his deep eyes black as coal and penetrating. My breath caught, but I dared not look away because I was entranced in his vampiric glamour.

He opened his mouth to speak, and I looked at his lips. I had never noticed before, but he did have the most subtly enticing lips. They were slightly pouty and welcoming. They said 'come taste me, I'll show you a good time'.

"A few things," he admitted, and I studied him.

I nodded. "Where are we going?"

"Something old… something new," he whispered in a low raspy tone.

I raised a brow. Before I knew it, we had stopped and he got out, helping me to my feet. I stared at the building before me.

"It's a club," I remarked. Then the mechanics in my head began to work. "A drunken night?"

This was very unexpected and very upsetting.

No candles. No soft Sarah McLachlan playing in the background.

"We weren't drunk," He snapped, annoyed.

I crossed my arms because I didn't believe him.

"Ok," He nodded. "There might've been champagne. But you only took a sip. You were too busy stripping."

I gasped. "Liar, take it back!"

He smiled, and I'm taken aback because Chuck never really smiles.

"Would I ever?" He drawled and walked in, telling me with his body to follow him.

I huffed a bit on the side of the street, then finally stomped my foot and went in.

Dear life, Chuck Bass is the most awful sexy-smelling person in the planet.

--

"So you went with him?" She asked. I glared.

"Yes." I snapped. "I didn't feel like feeling lost and semi-alone for the rest of the day," I defended my actions.

"How did it make you feel?" She asked.

"Are you serious?" I asked. I swear, they've told every single physiatrist and counselor to ask the same generic questions. And to think I once thought semi-decent thoughts of her.

She smiled.

"How did it?" She inquired again, undeterred.

I shifted and looked at her water-color knock-off.

"Sexy."

--

I stared around the place and wrinkled my nose. I heard him explain how he bought the place a year ago, and then sold it to help Nate. Then he re-bought it, and had invested in a few properties since then.

"You invested in a strip joint. How mid-town," I said to him, and he looked at me. "What?" I snapped. "I've said this before, haven't I?" I asked, and I knew the answer before he said a word.

He nodded, coming closer.

"And then I stripped?" I asked, walking away because his scent was bothering me.

"No…" he drawled, walking behind me and clearly checking me out. I glared at him. "Though it wouldn't have been unwelcome."

"Focus," I snapped.

He chuckled.

"Then you left, and then… You came back," He came closer, and I could hear the music of the dancers begin as they started their practice. "You and Nate broke up, and you needed some… relief."

My nostrils flared, and I looked away.

"The _same_ night." I asked, unconvinced.

He came up behind me, and I felt his hand slowly circle my waist. My breath caught in my throat.

--

"You let him touch you?" She asked, and I avoided the question.

"It was dark," I explained. "He was just leading me around."

She smiled. "And then what happened?"

"Nothing. Nothing happened. Apparently, I stripped down to my undergarment and danced for him… On a bet."

She wrote something down.

I tried to look.

"Continue."

I took a breath.

--

I'm pretty sure it's extremely dangerous to be around him now. He's like this octopus with too many hands and poisonous words.

He walked outside.

"And then we entered the limo," he opened the door for me, and I sensed something strange.

I had seen him do this action before, and it bothered me because if I had really felt this and seen this before, then it was no longer a bullshit story concocted by a notorious womanizer in order to seduce me.

It meant it was real and I had actually fallen in love with this man, and he had with me.

How did we go from sex to love?

I got in and saw him walking around. His driver opened the door and he slipped in.

"Just like this," he continued.

I laughed when he accidentally hit his head as he entered. He rubbed his head and winced.

"Shit!"

"Let me see," I said, pulling him toward me. "Yup, you'll have a bruise."

He was staring at me now as I studied his forehead. I pulled away and stared back at him.

My hands dropped from his head, and I placed them on my lap.

"Then?" My breath was off.

"We sit," his voice was thick and unguarded.

I nodded.

I sat back, and we were quiet until I turned and looked at him.

"Thank you for this," I told him finally. He was looking ahead, drenched in memories.

"You were amazing that night," he said softly.

I stopped breathing. I stopped thinking because his voice was so very real, his eyes so very dark, and the world continued around us.

He turned to look at me.

"It was like I finally saw you. Like _someone_ finally saw you," his voice lulled me. "Like you finally… broke free."

His words hammered home, and things I shouldn't have been feeling overwhelmed me.

I stared at him. He stared right back.

"And then?" My voice was equally thick because I was slightly sorrowful. I wished… I wished I could remember.

"And then you kissed me."

Oh diary. I almost _did_ kiss him. I mean, there he was; sad and smoldering as the sun left its trail, and dusk was always magic. Magic hour.

For the life of me, I couldn't remember why I had chosen Nate over him. Nate had never looked at me the way Chuck was looking at me at that moment.

I waited for him to kiss me. I did. I will admit that (I will deny it later, so enjoy it now).

But he didn't.

He pulled back and looked away.

I was taken aback.

What happened to the Magic Moment? I was confused, distressed.

"What happened?" I asked.

He _spared_ me a glance.

"Not like this," he finally replied. "Back then… It was ok. Now… Things are different."

I stared at him until he stopped before my house. Night had just fallen and we sat next to each other, waiting for me to leave the limo.

"I guess you can say I've changed," his voice is a raspy whisper.

I stared at his profile. "Maybe… I finally see you. Maybe _someone_ finally sees you."

He turned his head, and I regretted my words the moment I said them because they were entirely too intimate.

"What do you see, Blair?" He asked.

I took a breath.

"I see a good guy…" I finally admitted.

His head tilted ever so slightly.

"… who just wants his life back." I looked away. "Just like I want mine."

I couldn't look at him because I had just admitted to losing a tug of war.

He was quiet for a while, and I could see his jaw working.

"I'll make you a deal," he said, and I studied him.

"I'll help you get your Nathaniel back," he said slowly. "With one condition."

My thoughts ground to a halt. He was willing to help me? I didn't like conditions, so I was pretty sure I wouldn't like this at all.

"The day before you make your decision…" He touched the back of my hand softly. "… You spend a day… _and_ a night with me."

My heart was beating faster, faster than it _ever_ had. Ever.

"Chuck…" My voice was uncharacteristically nervous.

"Take it or leave it." He said, and then I knew he was calculating his next words. "You have to ask yourself… how _badly_ you want it all back. How much you're willing to gamble. How far you're willing to go. How much you're willing to lose."

I didn't know if he was talking about me anymore because he wasn't even looking at me.

And there, at the eve of my despair, I nodded.

And I didn't even know what I was agreeing to anymore.

Dear life, why me?

--

"You've been avoiding me," Serena said as she entered my room.

I spared her a glance and then turned to close my diary, tucking my pen into my drawer along with it.

"You write a lot," she commented.

"I'm trying to remember," I told her, finally deigning to face her.

"Nate told me," I admitted. "About, you know…"

Her face fell. "Oh."

I nod. "Yeah…"

"B…" she began, clearly distressed.

"I'm not angry." I assured her. "I don't know why. I wrote that in my diary. The not being angry about it part, but I didn't tell my shrink."

"Why?" Serena looked confused.

"Because she'll make it into a Chuck thing." I told her.

"Is-is it a Chuck thing?" She asked, looking at me. Slightly hopeful?

"No. Yes. Maybe," I huffed. "I don't know. I'm tired of not knowing, I'm tired of having no control, and I'm tired. Tired of not remembering."

Serena pulled me to the bed, and I stared at her. Perfect blond hair, perfect face. She didn't even know it.

"I think you're learning too much, too fast," She explained, and I raised a brow at her.

"You're being overprotective," I told her.

"I just don't trust the boys. Nate wants you off his back, and Chuck is desperately trying to get you back," She explained. "I mean, he's worse than before."

I don't know why, but this perked me up. How was he before?

"What do you mean?" I carefully inserted the indifferent note to my voice.

"Well, after the summer, he just sat around drinking and thinking about you and Marcus." She saw my confused look. "It was this _Lord_ that you used to in order to make Chuck jealous."

I blinked at her.

"Did it work?" I asked, and cursed myself for not inserting the indifference.

Serena caught it, and I was furious with myself.

She smiled and studied me.

"Where were you yesterday? I looked for you," She inquired, and I quickly left the bed because I could tell I had 'I spent the afternoon with Chuck Bass' stamped on my forehead.

"Come to think of it, I didn't see Chuck either," She said.

"Ok. So I spent some time with him," I snapped.

She grinned.

"You like him," she sing-songed.

"I do not!" I growled. "I am in love with Ch- I mean, Nate! Nate is the love of my life!"

"You think he's handsome," she continues, repeating one of those scenes we loved in middle school. "You want to marry him."

She was outright laughing! I was, of course, indignant and pink.

"Serena!" I hissed, clearly disturbed.

"Oh, my God, B!" She was clearly happy with herself. "You know what this means, right?"

I ignored her.

"This means that, deep down, you were attracted to him _before_ anything ever happened between you two," She said, her eyes wide. "I mean, you two did always have that sort of way of thinking that only you two understood. And you're the only girl he's ever respected."

"This – the entire diatribe is ridiculous!" I exploded.

"It's not!" Serena countered. "If you weren't so busy trying to get Nate back, you would perhaps – just perhaps- want to be with someone who wanted you and only you."

I hated her.

"Convenient, S," I glared. "Now that I'll be safely in Chuck's arms, you'll have access to Nate."

She stood and glared right back at me.

"You must have not heard. _Everyone_ has access to Nate."

I didn't know what she meant, but I didn't try to stop her as she walked away.

Dear life, I also hate Serena. Make note.

--

I was sleeping when he woke me, looming over me with a cup of yogurt and fruit in his hand and a smirk on his face.

I gasped, sitting up.

"What are you – if my mother finds you – what are you doing?" I was stuttering and wondered if I had dried drool on my face, or perhaps a lash stuck on my nose.

He calmly sipped a green concoction from a take-out cup and placed my yogurt and fruit next to me.

My hands roamed over my hair. It was a disaster, and I had on no make up. Which meant I was blotchy and pimply.

"You look fine," he said, rolling his eyes and walking to my desk. He spotted the journal he gave me and I quickly scampered off my bed, grabbing it from his hands and holding it to my chest.

"Private!" I snapped.

He was interested but said no more. I knew he was formulating a plan to read it.

"Get dressed," he ordered.

"Why, where are we going?" I asked apprehensively.

"Church," he said.

I blinked at him.

WTF.

"Church? Do they allow your kind in?" I snap.

He smirked, amused.

"C'mon – you need to go to confession," He said, grabbing my silk robe and smelling it delicately before I yanked it from him.

He chuckled as he walked out, and I fumed.

I was not going to church.

So we went to church, and I refused to leave the limo as we parked before it.

"I still don't understand why I went to confession," I said, stubbornly remaining in my seat.

"Because, dear Waldorf, you are – at this point in our story – not longer a member of the V club."

I gasped.

He sat, happy with this revelation. I glared at him.

"When?" I asked.

"After Victrola," He explained.

"The night I broke up with Nate?"

He nodded. "In the limo."

I looked around. "In the limo??"

This was too much. So out of character. I refused to believe him.

"Naturally, you need to confess."

"I'm not going," I informed him.

"So, you don't feel guilty about it?" He was amused.

Confession booths are a lot like they show in the movies. They're dark, cozy, and intimate.

I took a breath. This place was not that bad.

"Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned. It's been… apparently a year or so since my last confession," I whispered. I liked this; it was like being in a film!

"What troubles you, my child?"

OMG. He spoke! And he sounded so familiar! I must have definitely spoken to him before!

"Ok, let me take it from the top. A year ago, I lost my virginity to this self-absorbed ass, and we apparently fell in love. Leaving my good, honest and sometimes cheating boyfriend behind. So, now I've lost all memory of it because I was in an accident, and I just want my original boyfriend back. So the ass, who is still in love with me, has offered to help me get my boyfriend back, but I have to spend all this time with him, and it's just making things complicated," I breathed.

"Eh… what exactly is the sin?"

"I cannot have ever fallen or ever will fall for him!" I snapped. "I mean, he's – I could tell you, but I think other people have to confess, and we could be here all morning."

"Oh."

"Yes, oh. Oh! And I'm attracted to him in this weird way that I can't explain," I continued.

"Really?"

"So, what do I do?" I asked.

"Are you seeing a therapist?" He inquired.

"Yes, but she's judgmental," I complained.

"What does she say?"

"She thinks I'm just falling back in love with Chuck – which is ridiculous," I stated.

"Is it?"

I stopped, eyebrows knitted. I slowly stepped out of the box and walked over to the priest. I yanked the door open, and out rolled a laughing Chuck.

I gasped, staring at him.

"I can't believe you fell for that," he was saying.

"You – you are a bastard!" I yelled. I kicked him. "Arrogant, lying, manipulative bastard!"

I stopped because I noticed the entire Sunday morning congregation staring at us. I blanched.

I felt an arm around my waist that pulled me out, still laughing its head off. We ran out, my hand in his.

When we were outside, I glared at him and then began laughing. I supposed, on some odd planet, this would all be funny.

We laughed together for a while, and then finally stared at each other on the steps of the church.

I don't know why I did it, diary, I really don't. But I kissed him then.

I pulled his head full down, pressed myself against him, and kissed him.

Dear life, I'm falling for Chuck Bass.

--

To be continued


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 5** of _Dear Life, I Hate Chuck Bass_

Author: Isabelle

Rating: PG-13

Summary: When Blair wakes, the last thing she can remember is falling asleep the night Serena came back to New York. But apparently it's 18 months later. She's no longer Nate's girlfriend, Serena is remorseful, and Chuck Bass… is in love with her.

Disclaimer: I do not own Gossip Girl.

A/N – My BETA, Tati, deserves an award because she BETAs super fast and never complains. Love her!

--

"_If there is no passion in your life, then have you really lived? Find your passion, whatever it may be. Become it, and let it become you and you will find great things happen for you, to you and because of you."  
__T. Alan Armstrong_

"I kissed Chuck." This is my opening sentence when Serena meets me at our spot at Central Park.

I was wearing a huge hat because I was trying to go incognito. She was looking at me like I'd lost my head as I paced back and forth, the hat flapping around me.

"I mean, I grabbed him, practically mauled him in front of a church!" I was nearly screaming with hysterics.

"A church!" I repeated.

She blinked at me, attempting a straight face.

"Don't laugh!" I snapped at her. She held up her hands and took a sip of her latte.

"After I kicked him, of course," I rambled on. "And – and…"

"How did it make you feel?" She asked and I turned to her.

"One shrink at the time!" I demanded.

"So it was good?" She was smiling for real now.

--

Oh, dear God, can this man kiss.

This man was born to kiss.

I felt my entire body flush alive as his tongue practically made me pass out. His arm around my waist was the only thing holding me up, and I was pretty sure he was poison because this strange sensation was running up my legs and I was completely lost in this moment.

I didn't want the moment to end.

Why haven't I been kissed like this before over and over?

My hands were tangled in his hair and I was pulling at him like a lifeline, begging for life, for love, begging for him.

I couldn't remember my name, why I was there – who the hell he was – because all I could think was, "Thank you, Life, for making me a woman." For making me this woman and for letting me be here, at this moment, being kissed like this.

I had a momentary thought, through the haze of my Hollywood kiss, that we were passionately in love and had been separated for months, and he had found me and we would be together forever.

Where's the rain?

He pulled back because we were still human and needed air and were both shocked and panting and staring at each other like we had finally woken.

"God, I missed that," he said, and an odd thought occurred to me then. Had our kisses always been like this? Because if they have been, let me tell you – I'm sold.

He touched my face and smiled, and I was still unsure of what my God-given name was, so I let him because I was so very lost and found that I couldn't breathe. The tips of his fingers over my face flushed me to the core.

"I'm going to kiss you again," he whispered, and I thought to myself that if I let him kiss me again I would surely die. Right there, before the house of God.

So I pulled back, still stunned, still looking at him, and somehow found my way down the steps of the church. He stares down at me, confused.

"Blair," he called to me.

"I…" I looked around. God, I was hungry. I could have eaten a train. "I… I need to wash my hair."

And I nearly mauled a lonely, empty cab that was passing by at that moment.

I seemed to be in a mauling mood.

--

"You just left him there?" Serena demanded.

I was pacing and had a momentary thought of becoming a smoker if only for that moment because I needed to do _something,_ but then I thought of the smell and the yellow teeth and it stressed me out.

"I have no control over this – he's taking over my life!" I was three random thoughts away from a panic attack.

"Blair, sit – calm down." Serena went over to me.

"I don't understand. _You_ don't understand!" I was hyperventilating.

"B-"

"I wake and I think of him, I go to sleeping thinking of him, I shower, I think of him –" I told her. "He's everywhere! It's Chuckalandia!"

She was clearly laughing now. I'm sure it was payback for my reaction to the 'Dan Humphrey from Brooklyn' story she had shared with me a few days earlier. Clearly this was punishment.

"And I'm _stuck_ in it. It's a revolving dream. I keep having the same vision over and over and over," I told her.

"Does it include kissing?" She smirked.

"Kissing? I've been kissed before. I've kissed before. _That_ was _not_ a kiss!"

She was entirely too delighted with this situation.

"Must have been _some_ kiss."

"Are you not listening to me? It was sex!" I was panting.

Serena's brows rose.

"I had oral sex, but not in the normal oral sex way, in front of a church!" I sat next to her. "I'm still shaking, look at me – look at my hair, something is _off_."

She patted my head. "Oh, B."

"No, Serena – he needs to stay away from me. Far, far away." I shook my head. "This can't be healthy. I'm developing a nervous neurosis and possibly a heart condition."

She smiled. "Blair-"

"I am one Chuck-moment from becoming medicated!" Yes, I knew I was being hysterical and a bit of a drama queen, but something had to be my outlet.

"You know what I think?" She asked.

I blinked and stared at her. "What?"

"I think you're over Nate."

--

Dear life, this _so_ can't be happening to me.

When he opened the door, I waltzed into his room. I didn't pause; I didn't stop. I simply grabbed his face and kissed him.

I could sense that he was stunned, and I waited – waited for that magic to return– my tongue doing most of the work.

I pulled back and glared.

Nate blinked at me.

"What the hell, Blair?" He asked, breathless.

I yelled and smacked his chest.

"Kiss me! Kiss me like I should be kissed!" I demanded

He was still stunned, confused, worried – yet all that flashed before Nate's face somehow looked the same.

He turned, and I saw what he was looking at. There was a girl there. An extremely pretty girl with black hair and wide green eyes, looking as confused as Nate, and now hurt.

She had tears in her eyes, and she just stared at Nate helplessly.

"How many, Nate?" She asked, and then pierced me with a hurt look. "I thought you were better."

I was shocked.

"Who are you?" I asked.

She let out a laugh. "You _would_ get amnesia."

She rushed past us.

"Vanessa!" Nate cried after her. "Vanessa, wait!"

God, she was wearing pink combat boots. Where do you even find those?

I watched as Nate caught up to 'Vanessa' as she struggled against him.

"No, Nate!" She was a minute away from crying, and as I looked on, watching him try to make her believe him and her still extremely hurt, I realized I was the third wheel. I had ruined whatever they just had going on.

I've done a lot of shitty things. A lot. I know this. I may lie to many, but I hardly lie to myself and actually let myself believe it.

I heard him assuring her that he didn't know what had come over me; that I wasn't well and couldn't remember. The hurt and the bitterness consumed me. I was upset his kisses weren't magical. I was upset I couldn't remember, I was upset someone who should mean nothing to me was slowly becoming everything, so I lashed out at the _almost_ happy couple before me.

"That's not what you said last night," I said loudly.

Vanessa stopped, staring at me and then at Nate.

"Were you with her last night?" She demanded. Nate vehemently denied it.

"Is that why you wouldn't answer your phone?" She asked him, and the tears were now clear on her cheeks, and I felt this horrible burning in my stomach.

"No!" He said, but his words didn't mean enough or perhaps they meant too much because Vanessa was rushing out of his home and out of his life.

I was scared when he turned to me, because I had never seen him look so very angry.

"Are you happy?" He demanded. "You satisfied?"

I swallowed and looked away.

"I don't play these games that you and Chuck play," he said to me. "The way you two hurt each other in this sick type of foreplay that only you two understand. I don't. I don't play it."

I recoiled from his pain.

He ran his hands over his hair.

"I'm tired, Blair," He said softly, sitting down, and for the first time since I had woken from my coma… I didn't want him back. He was this little lost person who had too much on his shoulders.

I sat across from him and he didn't look at me.

"I want you to go," he nearly pleaded.

"I'm sorry…" I said. "I'll go talk to her… I'll explain."

He let out a sarcastic laugh. "She's not like that. She's not like you."

I looked down. I felt like the worst person in the entire universe.

"The fact that you even did that… You don't know what love is," He said, and this time he met my eye. "You don't do that to people you claim you love."

--

His words echoed in my mind over and over as I _walked_ home. I didn't love. I didn't know how to love. The girl in the pictures loved Chuck, but I – this _new_ person – couldn't and wouldn't love.

I was broken and destroyed.

My phone had been ringing for the past few minutes, and when I finally picked up Serena sounded annoyed and flustered.

"How could you, B?" She demanded.

So maybe she was pissed about something else entirely.

"I can't talk now, Serena." I snapped because if I wasn't snapping I might break down crying.

"Listen to me. Stop this Nate nonsense!" She was almost yelling, and I want to yell right back because what right did she have to tell me who I should and should not love?

None.

None whatsoever. She _slept_ with him. While we were dating. I couldn't talk to her right now because I was too angry.

And I might say things I would regret.

"That's rich for someone who can't keep her legs closed even for her best friend's boyfriend and can't manage to hold on to the guy she loves, so she transforms herself into a bitch in order to make him suffer!"

I guess I did say things I would later regret.

She was quiet, and I could tell I had hurt her because it had been hard enough on her to confess all her feelings about this 'Dan Humphrey' who was, to me, badly dressed and slightly hairy.

"Don't make this about Dan." Her voice was low and dangerous in a way that I hadn't heard in years.

"Too bad, just did."

"How would you like for Chuck to find out you just threw yourself at Nate? Eh?"

My blood ran cold, and I didn't stop to ask myself why exactly my blood was responding to her threat.

For a moment there I see Chuck's face as Serena spitefully tells him that I went running to Nate the moment he finished kissing me.

"Serena –" I warned. But she had hung up.

I called her back and she picked up.

"Please don't," I told her.

"Why, B?" She asked.

"Because!" I yelled, stomping my foot.

"Because what?" she was yelling right back.

"Because it'll destroy him!" I finally yelled, and my words were echoing back and forth in my mind – like a ping pong.

Pong, pong, back and forth, back and forth.

"Isn't that what you wanted?" She demanded. "For him just to get over you?"

I… Fuck.

"I don't know!" I cried, frustrated.

Because I didn't know. I honestly didn't know anymore.

--

When I entered my room, I was not surprised to see Chuck lounging on my bed. His eyes were hard, and when he took me in he didn't change his expression.

I put my purse down and stared at him.

"Your hair looks dry," he commented.

I studied him. His hair was still a mess from how my hands had desperately grabbed at it. His necktie was loose from how I clung to it. His shirt was rumpled from how I grasped at it. He looked like he had been hit by a horny and desperate Blair Waldorf.

Which he had been. His eyes were so dark that I suddenly found myself confessing. Confessing to my priest.

"I… I kissed Nate. I ruined his relationship with Vanessa," I told him.

His face slowly registered my words. He closed his eyes tightly, and I could see his jaw twitching.

When he opened them and looked back at me, his pain was too much. I felt it vibrate against my soul, and I couldn't breathe.

"I don't know what's wrong with me." My voice was broken and shattered, and I began to cry. I began to grasp for air, to feel dizzy. I felt nauseous. I needed control. I was losing control.

I was hyperventilating, and I keeled over, holding onto my chest.

His arms were around me, and he was pulling my face to his.

"I don't know what's wrong with me," I said over and over, and the more I said it, the more I cried. "I just want to remember, I want to remember – please, Chuck-"

The loneliness was consuming me, and I ran to the bathroom. Before I knew it, I was puking all that I had eaten and sobbing by the porcelain. Sweet porcelain.

"Stop it!" I heard him yelling. He pulled me back and stared down at me hard. "Is this what you do?" He demanded.

And he saw the truth in my eyes. He sighed, jaw twitching, and pulled my face to his neck, holding it there. I clutched onto him.

"How can you love me?" I whispered. "How can you?"

His skin was warm.

I felt him kissing my hair, and I sighed because I felt found. He smelled of dark nights and even brighter days.

--

"So you were a bulimic?" My shrink said.

I nodded. "That's what all the cool kids are calling it these days."

"Are you still a bulimic?" She asked softly.

"I'm not that cool."

"Why do you do it? What's missing?" She asked, and I stared at her.

Nothing.

Well, my mother… At times. And my father. But they love me. I know they do.

So what _is_ missing? Happiness?

God, what is wrong with me? Why am I like this? When did I get messed up? At birth?

--

I don't know when we made it to the bed, but there we were, and he was lying back with me next to him, tucked under his arm. I was studying the silk of his Dolce & Gabbana shirt.

"What you said in the limo… about the pregnancy…" His body stiffened under mine, and the only thing I could think of to calm him was to run the palm of my hand over his chest in soothing circular motions.

That did the trick and he slowly exhaled.

"I thought your mom died when you were six… in a plane crash," I said softly. This had been bothering me for a while.

He was quiet, then after a while took my fingers and began playing with them.

"That's what my father told everyone," he whispered. "It's what he told me to say."

"Why?" I asked, turning my head to study his profile.

He was lost in his loss.

"Because… That way he wouldn't have to explain how I killed her."

My heart stopped beating and beating and aching and aching.

I stared at him. He was just as broken as me. We were both broken.

I touched his face, and he turned to look at me.

We stared at each other and the world went blank.

"I'm sorry," I said, and he just stared at me.

I don't know why I did what I did, but I pressed my forehead to his and we stayed there for a while. I didn't know if this was comforting him, but it felt like the right thing to do.

And my heart beat once more.

"What happened next?" I asked in a mere whisper. "After the confession."

He sighed and ran his smooth warm hand up my bare arm.

"Then I went shopping. It was your birthday."

I smiled because I hadn't imagined this. He reluctantly pulled away and walked to my jewelry dresser. He opened the top drawer and pulled out a box. My breath caught in my throat as he slowly walked to me. He opened it as he sat down.

I stared at the necklace.

"And then?" I asked, my eyes never leaving the necklace. My hand softly touching it. It was perfect.

He stared me down. His eyes had turned onyx black.

"And then we made love."

Dear life, oh shit.

--

To be continued

A/N – There may not be an update for another 2 days, just a heads up and thank you, as always for the feedback.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 6** of _Dear Life, I Hate Chuck Bass_

Author: Isabelle

Rating: PG-13

Summary: When Blair wakes, the last thing she can remember is falling asleep the night Serena came back to New York. But apparently it's 18 months later. She's no longer Nate's girlfriend, Serena is remorseful, and Chuck Bass… is in love with her.

Disclaimer: I do not own Gossip Girl.

A/N – My BETA, Tati, deserves an award because she BETAs super fast and never complains. Love her!

--

"_Passion is the mob of the man, that commits a riot upon his reason."  
__William Penn_

You have to understand that I'm a virgin. In my mind, I am. In my mind, it was going to be candles and lace with a soft-spoken Nate.

But it was daylight, I had puke-breath, and I was terrified.

I was terrified, but I kept breathing because what else could I do?

He leaned in slowly, studying me – watching me. My eyes never left his.

I reached out and slowly touched his lips. He parted them, studying me.

His lips were almost on mine – a very welcome gesture – then we both jumped back when my alarm went off. It was 5pm – time for my exercise. A soft acoustic version of

"Time after Time" played out of my digital radio and I smiled.

The tender feel of the music and the close proximity of our bodies left me a goner.

"I have puke breath," I told him.

He smirked and touched my cheek, and I felt the burn of his hand rush through me.

Dear life….

Before I knew it, he was on me, on top of me – his mouth caressing mine.

And oh, sweet Jes-

I couldn't think, I couldn't do anything but keep up with him and his passionate plea that was being ushered through his hands and mouth. I could do this always – just always.

He felt so amazing; he made me feel so amazing – like I was this sexy, powerful creature that needed to be worshiped.

And now he was on top of me, and the _feel_ of his body over mine was exhilarating. It was transporting me to a place that I found oddly familiar, oddly reassuring.

His hands were grasping at my legs, and I was momentarily distracted because I knew they're meaty, but then he was squeezing them and cherishing them, and I was left without breath as I clutched him even tighter.

"God, I love your legs," He said harshly, bending down and placing kisses on the outside of my thighs, and I just stared at him because no one had ever done that. It made me want to wear short little skirts for the rest of my life. Never hide them and always tease him with them.

I felt his hands running under my skirt, and I was suddenly overcome with panic.

Was I wearing matching underwear? Did I wax? Should I have rinsed?

I had no condoms. Did he have some? Why would he carry them? Oh, because he's Chuck Bass, that's why.

Oh, I should have the walls repainted in a soft eggshell color.

But then his mouth was back on mine, and I forgot what walls were.

"Relax," he whispered, and I nodded because I didn't know what relaxation is – I had never experienced it.

And I was grasping at his hair, pulling him in me, wrapping my legs around his waist, and I finally felt it. My eyes widened as his erection poked me through his pants. My breath quickened as I remembered the pictures. He's big. I – I've never…

--

"So… you've had relations then?" Dr. Fiore commented, studying me like she always does. Head tilted, Chanel glasses perched, curious.

"Apparently," I replied.

"I mean recently," She inquired.

"Apparently," I repeated.

She placed her pen down.

"No. I mean, we _almost_ did," I confessed.

"What happened?" She asked, genuinely curious.

I shifted. The carpet there was low-grade.

"My mother."

--

"Mom!"

His body was instantly off mine, and I lay on the bed, breathing and flushing.

My mother was calmly studying us.

"_Charles_," my mother drawled out, and I was sure she was killing him. In her head. With a sharp, rusty railroad spike. "Blair doesn't remember the rules, but you certainly do."

Chuck smirked, looking down, and I was aghast.

"Of course, Eleanor."

My mother doesn't like it that he addresses her by her first name. I could tell by the way her neck twitched ever so slightly.

She turned to me, and I sucked in a breath. I was sure my face was tomato red from both his kisses and from mortification.

"No _sex_ in the house," She commanded.

My mouth hung open, because I didn't even know my mother knew what sex was.

She nodded.

Chuck nodded.

I nodded.

Dorota nodded (she had been standing behind her, looking very displeased).

We all nodded.

"Good. Dinner is served. Charles, won't you join us?" she said. It was a command.

Chuck smirked. "An evening with two beautiful ladies? I wouldn't miss it."

--

"Look, I know we don't really like each other right now, but I need help," I started out before Serena could say anything.

"B-" she sighed. "I'm busy."

I breathed out loudly over the phone.

"Fine," she gave in. Yay, it works!

"Chuck's here. Downstairs. Talking with my mother." I took a breath. "And they're laughing."

She was laughing, too.

Apparently, the joke was on me, because I was about to have a coronary.

"_And_ she caught us kissing in that "we kiss like we're having sex" kind of way," I added for emphasis and drama.

She was undeterred.

"Well, they get along. What do you expect?" She asked.

"What do you mean??" I was nearly shouting now. "He's Chuck Bass!"

"Exactly. He's a charmer," she explained.

--

When I walked in on them, they were enjoying the crème brulee, and Dorota seemed pleased. I took a seat next to my pseudo boyfriend and glared at him. My mother went on an on about the success of her spring line as he nodded politely, throwing in the most perfect compliments – she enjoyed basking in them. All I could think about was stabbing Chuck with my spork.

"Blair, darling, what is wrong?" My mother snapped me out of my disturbing daydreams of relieving my stress via Chuck, and I smiled.

"Nothing. I'm not feeling desert."

Dorota frowned, and I mentally promised to make it up to her later.

"You love crème brulee," Chuck put in, and Eleanor frowned.

"I think it's quite alright. Perhaps a diet soda for sweetness? Or a mint?" She offered.

I frowned slightly. Chuck was clearly upset.

--

"What are you doing?" I hissed when I had a moment with him alone.

He smirked. "What do you mean?"

"You _know_ what I mean!" I snapped.

"I like your mom," he said calmly, and he looked sincere enough, but I know Chuck Bass better.

"Since when?" I asked. To be honest, I never really noticed who he liked and who he didn't.

"Since the dream," His eyes got misty, and I was even more suspicious.

My eyes narrowed as I study him and his utopian look.

"What dream?" My voice was low as I observed my mother give instructions to Dorota out of the corner of my eye.

"Anne, Lily and Eleanor. All together."

I stared at him and blinked.

Oh, shit, no.

Dear life, Chuck Bass is a pervert, and he's never touching me again.

--

"I'll be turning in. I'm sure Charles must be getting back home since there's school tomorrow," Eleanor said pointedly as she nodded in our direction and headed to her room. Dorota spied on us for a moment, then turned to leave.

I turned to Chuck and sharply smacked him.

"What the hell?" He snapped.

"A threesome? With our mothers?" I hissed, livid.

He looked at me as if this was quite normal.

"This is quite normal, Waldorf. I'm a teenager," he explained

I hate him.

"It is not!"

He smirked, and I wanted to wipe it off his face because he was annoying me to no end.

He had this silly hat in his hand and called to Dorota to get him his coat.

"Leave," I said.

"I intend to," he nodded.

He slipped on the coat Dorota offered him, and then swatted me lightly with the hat. "Walk me to the elevator."

I was still too upset to think of anything other than Anne, Lily and my mother _together,_ so I followed him without protest. When the doors slid open, he stepped in and stared at me.

My body flushed because of the way he was looking at me. Then, before I knew it, he had reached out, yanked me in as the doors closed behind me, and pulled me to him.

My nipples (don't ask how they got to that condition) were hard as rocks, and his tongue was tasting my neck. I moaned, pulling him to me.

This was so wrong, wrong, right, right – yes, yes!!

Oh, and then he pulled the emergency stop. I heard warning bells in my head, but the way he was working my ears and my mouth, I couldn't think—nor did I want to.

Before I could stop myself, I was pushing him down on the floor and wrapping my legs around his waist as his hands went under my skirt, pushing it up.

And… ok. I'm ashamed of this, and no one is ever ever ever reading you, diary.

I had sex.

I had honest-to-Satan fantastic sex.

It was wild, and it was crude, and it was sweet and loving, and I don't know what the hell I'm going to do, diary.

I mean… Chuck knew what he was doing – sure. But somehow… So did I. It's like I knew where to place my hands, knew how to rock my hips, knew how to tease him, and it was utterly fantastic!!

But this is bad.

At least it wasn't in the house, I reasoned with myself. My mother would be proud.

--

I waltzed to school (but did not skip, because I was certainly not happy).

I spotted Serena, who was in the middle of a constipated conversation with someone I could only presume to be this 'Dan Humphrey'.

He spotted me and sighed, wanting to get away. Good. He knows not to mess with me.

"Waldorf," he greeted.

I looked him up and down.

"Person," I responded.

"Blair." Serena stated, giving me a look that only meant 'be nice'. "This is Dan Humphrey. Dan – Blair."

I nodded, but he was obviously out of the loop. Because he was looking like a little boy lost in the storm as his mouth opened and closed.

"I have memory loss and, thank goodness, I don't remember you." I explained, looking at his LL Bean pants. I didn't know you could still purchase those.

Dan let out a laugh of incredulity. "You mean he wasn't lying?"

"Who?" I asked.

"No, Nate wasn't lying," Serena answered for me.

"How do you know Nate?" I snapped.

He sighed. "We go to the same school."

I looked him over, once more, doubtful.

He looked me up and down. "You're still the same."

"I lost memory, not personality," I explained to him.

He raised his eyebrows. "Then I venture to guess I'm still not welcomed."

I smiled encouragingly. For him to leave.

He did leave, giving Serena an odd, gay wave.

"Are you serious?" I asked.

She was glaring at me.

"You won't like him in any universe, will you?" She demanded.

"I'm pretty sure I won't."

She sighed. "You look happy," she commented.

I took a deep breath and smiled. But not a happy smile, because this was nothing to be happy about – just a regular smile smile.

"I lost my virginity," I told her.

I honestly don't know why I told her – I mean, she was my very best friend, my sister for so long, but so many things have happened since then. But she had been consistently there for me since I woke, encouraging me and protecting me.

In all honesty, I had to tell someone.

Her eyebrows rose, and she smiled.

"Chuck?" She asked, but knew full well what the answer was.

I nodded.

"Last night?" she asked.

I nodded.

"Where?" She asked, still all smiley.

I gulped. Lie, lie, lie.

"In my bed. Amidst candles and Bryan Adams."

Her eyes narrowed. "Liar," she hissed.

I gulped. Dammit. She knows Chuck too well.

"I know you too well."

Or me.

"Fine," I snapped. "In the elevator."

She gaped at me. "Stop it!" She cried.

"I know," I nodded. "I'm going to hell. Most likely in an elevator."

"Stop it!" She covered her eyes. "I have to use that elevator!"

"Take the stairs…"

--

He found me between classes; he was behind me, grabbing me and pulling me behind a wall.

I wasn't going to smile; I wasn't going to give in. I was going to act indifferent around him, but he felt so amazing. Before I knew it, I was in his arms and looking up at him, smiling.

He looked elated and began kissing me. And my mind was rushing with all the memories of his hands and his body and us in that elevator. That elevator that would remind me of us every time I rode it. Because I rode him. I rode the elevator.

Oh, God, and his tongue…

"Wait," I panted, still needy. "What are we doing?"

"Re-enacting," he explained, going back to my neck. His hands were grasping at my thighs once more.

"We did this?" I asked, breathless.

"Yes, yes," he whispered. "But more carefully, because Nate wasn't supposed to find out."

My stomach felt cold. We were a secret rendezvous?

"Did we ever –" I pushed him back slightly. "Were we ever _normal_?"

He stopped, looking at me, and I could visually see him gulp. His throat moved up and down.

"What?" I asked, fixing his tie.

He looked down at me and did something that will perhaps be imbedded in me for the rest of my life. The feeling it gave me warmed me inside out. He reached out, digging his fingers in my hair and pulling me to him, and pressed his lips to my forehead. I felt warm, content and … loved.

Yet as much as I loved it, this odd feeling took over me. He still felt extremely guilty about _something_.

"Chuck…" I said softly. "What happened?"

He kept my head right where it was.

"You're getting ahead of the story."

I brought my hand to his and pressed it there.

I'm not sure I want to know the rest of the story. Actually, I'm pretty sure I don't.

I don't want things to go back to how they were because if things were this messed up and painful, it can only mean bad things. And things are good now.

"Don't tell me," I turned my head to look at him.

He blinked at me, confused.

"Don't tell me," I repeated. Then I thought it over. "At least not today."

He nodded slowly.

"Just for today… Why don't we make our own memories?" My fingers were in his hair and I was pulling him down. He nodded, slightly relieved.

--

"Something is bothering you," she noted.

"I just… Everything is so good, you know?" I told her, my leg shaking unconsciously.

"Should things not be good?" She asked, staring at me.

"Yes!" I perked. "No. I mean – shit, I don't know."

She raised her brow.

"What's bothering you?" She inquired softly, and I knew she was making me comfortable with her so I would spill like a can of beans.

It worked.

"Something bad happened," I said softly. "I feel it in my gut. I see it in his eyes. Something that broke us up for some time. Something that took a long time for me to forgive."

"Bad things always happen. Along with the good," she said.

I was quiet, studying a little string on my skirt.

"But they always make us stronger," she said wisely. "If, after all the bad, you can still find your way back to each other and make it work… then…" she smiled. "Then shout that you love him in the middle of the street."

I blanched. "What?"

"You know, for a girl who loves romantic movies, you sure don't act like the heroine you think you are."

Dear life, I hate her.

--

Ok, so perhaps I have to relax a little. Yes, my life is kinda sucky, but at least I'm still a size 2 (3 ½). So I decided to try spontaneity.

Audrey would approve.

I stared at myself in the mirror before I left. My outfit was perfect. It was all about the adventurous today. My hair was in a ponytail and I tied my trench coat. I didn't call him; I just decided to show up. I was bouncing to his room after throwing a confused Bart a wave.

I knocked on his door and entered before he answered.

I blinked at the scene before me. There was this perfect woman on his bed. And when I say a perfect woman, I mean a perfect Victoria Secret-like woman. With her mile-long legs, perfect tan, and Brazilian hair perfectly fluffed and ready for a camera.

"Chuck," she said, (accent and all) calling to him as she eyed me, smiling slightly.

Chuck Bass walked out of his bathroom, in a robe and hair wet.

"Blair," he says, surprised.

I couldn't breathe.

I stared at the woman and then back at him. He looked as innocent as could be.

"Hummm…." He was at loss for words, and apparently so was I.

"Cassandra," the woman introduced herself.

I stared at her and her perfection, and I turned around, walking out.

Blair Waldorf, you are a fool. A complete fool. Google 'fool', and you'll find a picture of Blair Waldorf.

Google 'bastard', and you'll find Chuck Bass.

I don't know when I started to run – I almost did run over a clearly confused Bart Bass in my haste to leaving the place and perhaps the planet.

I heard Chuck calling after me as I hit the elevator button--banged on it is more like it. I was three breaths from taking the stairs, but finally the doors opened and I gratefully stepped in.

But the bastard also managed to enter as the doors close behind him.

I was so angry… I was so angry I could spit. The last time we had been together in an elevator he had confessed love to me – now he was – UGH!!

So I hit him. With my Chloe purse.

"You bastard!" I shouted, and he tried to calm me down by grabbing me, which only served to make me madder. I finally kicked his shin with my pointy shoe and he howled.

"I _hate_ you. I _hate_ you, Chuck Bass!" I couldn't be crying, but apparently I was. "I don't want you near me! I'm glad I don't remember – I'm glad I don't remember a thing!" I was shouting. "I want to forget you and never to be near you!"

He was looking at me, mouth opened.

"She's a business associate!" He cried. "_And_ a lesbian!"

I didn't believe him, of course – would you? I mean, this is Chuck Bass – lesbianism turns him on.

"That's not my business," I growled. "But you know what my business is? Forgetting you. All of you."

The doors opened, and I swiftly stepped out, leaving him in his half-open robe.

Dear life… I hate him, I hate him, I _hate_ him – I wish his penis would fall off, shrivel up and die.

He kept calling my phone, so I threw it into the middle of street.

Which was how I ended up arrested.

No, trust me – there's a perfectly good explanation. I didn't see the old woman, and I totally didn't mean to knock her unconscious. I totally feel bad.

It's all his fault.

You understand now why I hate him, right?

--

To be continued

**NOTE: has created a new section on TV Shows for Gossip Girl. I will be moving this fiction there over the weekend. Please don't look for any of my fiction anymore since I have moved them to the new section were they rightfully belong. If you're a writer I encourage you to do the same since we really write about the TV Show, not the books. Thank you!!**


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 7** of _Dear Life, I Hate Chuck Bass_

Author: Isabelle

Rating: PG-13

Summary: When Blair wakes, the last thing she can remember is falling asleep the night Serena came back to New York. But apparently it's 18 months later. She's no longer Nate's girlfriend, Serena is remorseful, and Chuck Bass… is in love with her.

Disclaimer: I do not own Gossip Girl.

A/N – My BETA, Tati, deserves an award because she BETAs super fast and never complains. Love her!

--

"_If we have no peace, it is because we have forgotten that we belong to each other."  
__Mother Theresa_

They say that time behind bars is time to reflect. Time to see what you can change about your life. Dear diary, that is crap.

The 59 minutes I spent behind bars served as a time to get angry. To boil all that anger and repressed emotions at myself and at the world and just stew with it.

I'm so angry at him, at me, at the Amazonian on his bed, at the world. I just wish everything would explode. I can't think of enough bad things to call him.

I got a bit creative, so I began to experiment with his name.

_Mother-Chucker _(hehe)

_Basshole_ (love it!)

At the same time, I avoided the hairy large woman next to me. She kept eyeing me, but I just glared ahead.

I'm not going to lie, I got very inventive during those 59 minutes.

Ways to kill Chuck Bass:

Run him over with his limo

Tie a permanent cock-ring on him

Strangle him with his scarf

I kept going. It made the time go faster, dreaming of his face filled with pain as these things happened.

"Was it because of a man?" The hairy woman asked.

I stiffened. Why was she talking to me? Why couldn't I have gotten a private cell? I heard about solitary confinement being a bad thing – that would _so_ not be a bad thing.

I ignored her. I pretended to be French.

"Or a woman?" She was sneering.

Ugh, dear God, I HATE Chuck Bass.

"Excuse me?" I snapped.

"You heard me." She sucked on her teeth. Ugh.

I rolled my eyes. "A man. A boy. A bastard."

"All three in one?" She asked.

I nodded stiffly.

"They usually are. My man left me for a one legged Hungarian," she commiserated.

That's awful! I grimaced.

I looked over at her. Maybe the one-leg was shaved?

"Blair Waldorf?" The guard came and I let out a loud breath. "You're out – no charges pressed."

No charges? I tried to kill a senior citizen!

I blinked at him, confused as hell, as they lead me away to get my belongings.

After I argued with the man that handed me my things (because they had totally scratched my new purse), I stepped outside to find The Basstard _lounging_ outside his limo. He stared at me as he attempted to not be amused.

"Don't you dare say a word," I snapped as I came closer. I was limping because I lost a shoe. I still don't know where it is.

He studied my appearance.

Granted, if I hadn't had a hissy fit as they attempted to cuff me, I wouldn't have ended up looking so disheveled. I stopped the hissy fit once they threatened to charge me with resisting arrest.

"Eventful day?" He asked.

I swear I will kill him.

"I will _kill _you," I hissed.

"I'm guessing you think this is my fault," he drawled, still amused.

"_Of course_ it is!" I yelled. People stopped to stare.

"You're welcome. For getting the woman to drop the charges," he replied.

"What are you talking about?" I demanded as he opened the door to les me in the limo. I got in, of course. I can't get in a cab – God knows they don't clean the carpets in those things.

He slid in after me and gave my address to his driver.

"The poor old woman you nearly killed," he smirked.

"What, did you sleep with her, too?" I snarled.

He laughed and I glared.

"So, today I slept with lesbians and senior citizens… Wow. There used to be a time when I slept with women who actually wanted me." He looked at me sideways. My stomach jumped. "You've ruined me good."

I let out a breath. "Please, you've probably slept with how many women since we got together?"

He brought up his hand and made a 'zero' gesture. I stared at his hand and then smacked it away. "Don lie to me! I just went to prison because of you!"

"You were not in prison-"

"I had a hairy woman tell me about her one-legged boyfriend!" I yelled.

"They're quite friendly in there." He was still smiling and looking at me with something akin to pride and admiration. I blushed.

Gosh darnit, why did I have to blush? I was supposed to fume and attempt the hit and run with the limo.

"You _would_ know!" Was all I could manage.

Because I found myself buying the story about the lesbian and the granny and DAMMIT!

The limo stopped. "Get dressed, I'll pick you up in two hours, we're all having dinner."

"All we who?" I demanded, crossing my arms.

He began counting off. "Serena, her leech, Nathaniel, his leech, and you and I."

"That's a lot of leeches," I answered.

"Not everyone can be as incredibly perfect as you and me."

I should've blown him off. I spent 59 minutes inside a cell next to people who don't shave because of him.

But he called me perfect, so I reconsidered.

--

"So you went?"

I really don't like this woman. She always begins with 'so you went', 'so you kissed him', 'so you like him'. She's entirely one-dimensional. No one is that perfect. Unless they're fictional.

"Yes."

And I always answer with a 'yes'.

So something is definitely wrong with me also.

--

He was there two hours and five minutes later. No, I didn't spent five minutes waiting for him. I wisely spent those five minutes listing ways to ruin his night, like he'd ruined my day. And to think that I went to his place with the specific purpose of re-enacting our own Breakfast at Tiffany's. Trench coat, cat masks and all!

This time he did bring flowers. I shifted as I stared at them.

"I figure, I have to keep you happy – I heard you had a bad day," he smiled, handing me the bouquet. It was all white and it reminded me of weddings and dancing and apologies.

A spark hit and I looked at him, stunned.

_In the face of…_ and then the memory was gone. Flitted away.

"Did you…"

"Blair?" He was looking at me with concern.

"I… I think I just remembered something," I said softly.

His eyes were wide, a panicked excitement shining in them.

I stared at him. He looked good in purple. "I miss your bow-ties," I told him, touching his ascot tie. He was looking down at me.

"You remembered something," he said.

I turned, smelling the flowers happily before giving them to Dorota. "By my bed," I told her.

When I turn to look at him, he was _slightly_ happy. As if he were restraining himself.

"You said something to me…" I said softly, coming closer. "You were…" I grasped for it. "… in a tux and it was a wedding."

He was studying me, being patient, for once.

"You said… 'In the face of'…."

"True love," he continued, becoming excited once more. "You don't just give up."

My breath left my body.

"Even if the object of your affection is begging you to," he finished softly, his eyes a soft hazel brown, his lashes long and inviting.

Dear life.

Oh, dear life, I'm _so_ in love with Chuck Bass.

--

"So-"

"Yes, I love him. Ok?" I snapped.

"So you love him," she smirked, and I fumed.

My revelation would be a dream come true for some girls. Not for me. This is a disaster. He's so going to break me.

"You seem more terrified than ever," she observed.

"Did you love your husband?" I countered.

She flinched for a millisecond, but I'm Blair Waldorf and I quickly caught it.

"Then you understand my apprehension," I explained.

--

Now I don't know what to say to him. I had a Cher-like revelation, and I have no idea what the hell to say to him. How to act. What to wear. Should I be more friendly? Smile more? Call him 'baby'? Somehow, I think he would hate that.

"Why are we doing this again?" I asked neutrally. That was a good way to start. Nothing different. _Stay cool, Sodapop._

"Mingling with the masses?" He asks, inspecting his cigar. "Because Serena is my sister, and Nathaniel is my best friend, and they have odd taste."

"Don't smoke," I told him. "The smell will get in my hair."

He raised his brow and chuckled, putting the cigar away. My heart fluttered happily when he listened.

"Does anyone know of my afternoon of un-traditional activities?" I asked, shifting ½ inch closer.

"Everyone," he stated plainly.

I was chill. Stay cool, Blair. Stay cool.

"WHAT?!" That thought went out the door.

"Gossip Girl blast. I must admit I downloaded the pictures of you getting cuffed."

I smacked him.

I don't love him any more. It's right back to disgust. All's right in the world!

--

"I have been trying to call you all afternoon!" Was the first thing Serena said to me as she hugged me and held me to her.

I couldn't see and I was pretty sure I swallowed a blonde hair.

"Serena, I need to breathe!" I gasped. Chuck was the one who pulls her back.

"Where you really arrested?" She asked.

I groaned, rolling my eyes. "It was a misunderstanding – all cleared up now."

'Dan' seemed amused, along with 'Vanessa'. I avoided Nate like the plague.

"Where's your phone?" Serena asked.

"I got rid of it," I said with a straight face despite Chuck openly showing off his own smirk. "It was time for a new one. I gave it to charity."

"To some senior citizen' organization." Chuck put in. That bastard!

By now the entire group was staring back and forth between us – completely lost. I liked it that way.

--

By nighttime, we were sitting close to each other in the VIP area on a black love seat.

"Are you ever going to tell me the story of _Cassandra_?" I asked snippily.

He smirked. "Are you sure you want to hear it? I mean, I don't see your target choice here, but I'm sure you, in your rage, can find a senior citizen."

I smacked him.

"Fine. Ok. Over a year ago – before you and me, I _did_ have sex with Cassandra, one of the Victrola managers. That's when I realized she was a lesbian and told her so – she hadn't come out of the closet herself. I ran into her while I was with another woman some months later, and the other woman, Kelly and her ended up hooking up. They let me watch _once_. So they were my friendly lesbian couple… It's because of them that I got involved with Victrola. She showed up today because they've broken up so she went to me for advice."

I eyed him. I mean, I knew about Chuck and his sexual adventures. Everyone did. So this didn't really surprise me. What surprised me was how nonchalant he was over the entire thing. Most guys would be drooling at the prospect of a lesbian beauty casually going to them for advice on their ex-lover. Not Chuck.

"And you're not turned on by all of this?" I asked, skeptically.

He smirked, touching my chin. "No."

"Why not?" I demanded.

"'Cause I've got you, babe," he said softly, and I melted into a puddle of goo.

We lounged casually next to each other, watching Serena and Vanessa dance a bit as Nate and Dan shared a beer, and I turned to study his profile.

"What happened next?" I asked.

He stared at me. "After the random sexescapades and make-outs?"

I nodded, smiling.

He swallowed, looking towards Dan and Nate. I instantly felt his body stiffen.

"You went back to him," he finally said.

I followed his line of vision and spotted Nate, laughing at some joke Dan had made. I studied Nate for a moment. I thought back on our relationship. I honestly believe I haven't had as much fun with Nate in all the years we were together as I've had with Chuck in the time I've been with him. He made me feel light and beautiful and free and cherished, and I decided that I loved myself at the moment.

Dear life, I love myself.

I love me. I love how I laugh, how I'm free, how I flirt, how I bitch, how I seduce. I turned and stared at the man next to me, who was looking at me curiously.

He made that happen. I realized at that very moment that since the moment he kissed me all those weeks ago in the hospital and told me he loved me, I've been unable to think of anyone else other than him. His eyes, his mouth, his smirk, the way his eyes turn a warm honey brown when he stares at me with admiration and encouragement.

I thought back to the day he took me on our first 'date', when he ordered for me even though I refused, the confession in the limo, the way he took me back to the beginning when everyone was unwilling to do so, the way he held me after he found out I hated my body, his jokes in the church, the way he made love to me—in an elevator out of all places! The way he graced my mother with compliments, the way he sits, the way he laughs, the way he can make _me _laugh and smile, the way he brings out the best and the worst in me.

"I love you," I said, and the moment I did, it registered on his face. I realized this was the very first time I had said these words to him.

I touched his face because he had turned into a living statue.

"Say something," I whispered.

He kissed me then, wild and passionate, burying his hand in my hair and I was grateful we were on a couch because once more I was melting and rising all at the same time. And then my hands were on his hair, his shoulders, his back, his face, and I'm pulling him into to me – regardless of who was watching, who was around – and just enjoying him and the feeling of ecstasy that he incurred in me.

That's when I felt a figure looming over us.

He was the first to notice and pulled me up, glaring back at Serena.

"Sister," he growled, very annoyed, as I attempted not to smile. I was still holding onto his jacket, evidence of being ravaged written all over my face.

"We're leaving," She said.

Chuck looked at me and smirked. "Shall we stay or shall we go?"

"Blair's sleeping over, remember?" She snapped to Chuck. "Though I'm sure you planned it that way."

We looked innocently at her, and I decided that this was a fun game to play. Annoy Serena by making out and then outsmart her by involving her unknowingly into our little plots.

"Of course you did." She rolled her eyes and then walked away.

Chuck and I shared a devious smile that made something funny happen to my stomach… Like butterflies.

--

When it happened, it happened in a very calm manner. We were all piling into the limo as we left the club and Chuck turned swiftly to kiss me once more so that we wouldn't make everyone else nauseous. I was once more so flustered and slightly dizzy from his mouth that as I got in the limo, I banged my head. I banged my head the way he had banged it some days before.

I blinked and, before I knew it, it was all dark and I heard people talking over me. I could definitely tell it was Chuck who was holding me, but all I could say was 'ouch'. And then I was out.

--

_I debated over my outfit five times before I decided on a navy blue gown, which in the back of my mind I hoped he would like. But never out loud. Never._

_Never mind that we had been avoiding each other since we woke up together. We were avoiding each other like the plague. Because he hadn't said what I needed him to say and because he was deathly afraid I would demand it from him. And he was right._

_We had actually gone back to being quasi-friends. Having dinner, talking, involving each other in out plots, etc. Then, one stupid night that we were feeling especially needy, it happened. Everything was right; we had even made it on the pages of US! New couple alert, it had said, and the butterflies in my stomach had fluttered happily._

_But now he was avoiding me. Granted I was avoiding him too but I preferred to say that it was all his fault._

_Yet all this avoiding and closed-mouth on his part was flooding my mind as to what exactly he felt towards me. I had paced, talked to no one because Serena was too busy being a bitch and Queen S to listen to me and my doubts. Jenny was the only person I had who was even remotely close to a friend at this moment, and she was having 100 issues of her own._

_Her advice was 'Well, you know him better than anyone.' Yeah right! No one really knew Chuck Bass, what he was thinking, what he wanted, what he loved._

_Naturally, I hadn't told her that I had a five-day pregnancy scare. I missed three days of school, avoided all human beings and decided if I was left with his love child, I would move to India and never come back. Ok, India was a bit drastic. Perhaps Australia?_

_When I arrived, I skimmed around for a few of the girls that I still spoke to and I spotted him talking to Serena on the other side of the room. His eyes immediately found mine and I looked away, sharply. _

_I avoided him for as long as I could until Serena found me._

_I rolled my eyes and waited patiently for her to say her piece._

"_You've hardly been in school this past week," she began worriedly._

"_Don't concern yourself with me," I told her and turned, but she grabbed my arm._

"_B, please. I don't want us to fight anymore," she said, and I could hear the plea in her voice._

"_That's rich!" I snapped. "I already apologized to you, and you threw it in my face. Now you expect me to accept your apology?"_

"_Dorota called me, she's concerned." She was in my face now, but I stubbornly avoided her eyes. "Says you were… you know."_

_Yeah, I know. I know all too well._

"_Everyone is worried about you, Blair. Nate is, Jenny is, Chuck is-"_

"_Tell him not to worry," I said before I could stop myself._

_She paused and studied me._

"_You two care so much about each other. Why don't you just talk it out?" She pleaded. I shifted because I had so much riding on my shoulders the past few days that I felt I was close to breaking._

"_He and I don't matter anymore. Besides, I finally got my period today, so any connection we might've had is severed," I said, again, before I could stop myself. Because the truth was that I desperately missed my best friend._

_She was staring at me, wide-eyed. She pulled me out onto the patio and turned me to her._

"_You thought you were pregnant?" She asked, clearly in shock. "Why didn't you come to me?"_

_I wrenched my hand from hers._

"_Why do you care, anyways?" I growled._

"_You're my best friend, of course I care!" She hissed._

_We were staring at each other._

"_Chuck?" She finally asked. I nodded, looking away, and that's when I noticed she wasn't asking me, but asking him. He was standing behind me looking… shocked, hurt, vulnerable, and completely and utterly pissed off._

"_Chuck!" I said, turning to glare at Serena. "You knew he was here!"_

"_I didn't!" She defended herself._

_I didn't care, I didn't want to talk to either of them, so I began running through the party – trying to get out, trying to get as far from there as possible. Australia was sounding nicer and nicer._

_It wasn't until we were outside that a strong hand grabbed my arm and pulled me to him._

_I pushed myself off him._

"_Get off me, Bass!" I cried out to him._

"_You thought you were pregnant?" He hissed._

"_What do you care?" I yelled, pulling at him._

"_You said you were on the pill –"_

"_I didn't think I was going to make another __mistake_ _with you!" I spat, and I regretted those words the moment they left my mouth._

"_A mistake?" he growled._

"_Yes! Because I was weak, because I gave into you and your emotional growth stump!" I yelled._

_His face shifted, and I saw pure, unadulterated anger emanating from it. Before he even uttered a word, I knew he would hurt me beyond repair. "You know what? Get pregnant! I don't care! I don't care what happens to you! My life was much simpler and happier before you ever came along! I'd like to forget you and never think of you again! I wish I could rewind my life to before I ever kissed you, before I ever held you, and before you broke me! Then I'd find some peace."_

_His words burned me, burned in my eyes because I loved him. I loved him more than I had probably ever loved anyone, and now he didn't want me back._

"_Which explained why you've been avoiding me." I spat._

"_Oh, that's rich! __Me_ _avoiding __you__." He countered._

_I felt like barfing._

"_I thought things were different," I said, blinking back my tears._

"_Well, things change. You obviously don't care about yourself – and I'm not going to wait for you forever." He turned from me._

"_Chuck-" I started, because my throat couldn't work anything else out, and he wrenched himself from me, not even bothering to look at me, stalking away and getting into his limo._

_I watched the black car drive off and there went my heart._

"_Blair!" It was Serena._

"_You and your family stay away from me," I told her, my voice low and dangerous._

_That was when I began walking. My feet hurt, but they were not as crushed as my soul. I just walked and walked. Until I thought I was going to pass out._

_I can't remember honestly if I crossed the street without looking, or if I looked and welcomed it, but the next thing I knew, I was in a hospital. _

--

So it must come to you as no surprise that finally, after weeks of no memory, I blinked and stared ahead. He was there once more, watching over me, and the only thing that I could think of telling him was "I remember."

His face fell and so did mine.

Dear life, when did you become so very complicated?

--

To be continued

A/N - The next chapter is the last so do let me know what you think - I always appreciate hearing your thoughts on the story :)


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 8** of _Dear Life, I Hate Chuck Bass_

Author: Isabelle

Rating: PG-13

Summary: When Blair wakes, the last thing she can remember is falling asleep the night Serena came back to New York. But apparently it's 18 months later. She's no longer Nate's girlfriend, Serena is remorseful, and Chuck Bass… is in love with her.

Disclaimer: I do not own Gossip Girl.

A/N – My BETA, Tati, deserves an award because she BETAs super fast and never complains. Love her!

--

_March 1, 2009_

Hello, my dearest journal. When I found you today, I noticed a light layer of dust on your cover. I picked you up and carefully dusted you, inspecting what you were and knowing you with my own mind (not the confused one). You were quite a friend to me during those weeks of loneliness and of total lost.

So I felt I had abandoned you, like I had abandoned other things.

Lets see… Where did I leave off? Yes. I had been arrested, realized I loved Chuck Bass… And then I remembered.

It feels like a lifetime ago that I regained my memories.

All the time I was without them, I wanted them back so badly, it burned. When I acquired them, they still burned.

They took me to the hospital when I confessed I could remember, and it was Serena that held me until we got there because Chuck couldn't look at me and I recoiled at his touch. I remember it like it was yesterday.

The inept doctor was in Miami, so I got helped by another inept doctor. No concussions, no brain trauma. Sometimes memories just come back. Just like people.

When the doctor left, I noticed Chuck was not there.

"Where's Chuck?" I asked.

"He left." Nate was the one who responded.

And I was glad because I couldn't look at him right then.

I was kept overnight for observation, and Serena stayed with me.

"I'm sorry for everything," she told me, and I pressed my forehead to hers because despite, everything we were sisters and always would be.

"Me too," I replied.

She sneaked in some yogurt and bagels from Dean & Deluca at 5am since my stomach wouldn't stop growling. It was a good thing one of her mother's ex-husbands had been the owner of the chain. They still called her 'Rena,' and they let her in once they began the baking in the mornings.

The bagels were warm and creamy, and we sat on my bed, ignoring the disapproving looks from the nurses.

"Are you going to forgive him?" She asked me and I knew exactly who she's talking about.

"There's nothing to forgive," I told her after a while.

She looked at me questioningly.

"We've both hurt each other. I prefer a clean slate."

She nodded at this, and then I stole her pumpkin bagel.

--

I found her pretty quickly a few days later. She was sweeping the sad little shop and she paused when she saw me.

"Hey," she said, stopping the sweep and staring at me.

"Hi," I greeted her, looking around. "I wanted to say I was sorry."

Vanessa blinked at me, and then motioned to a seat.

"Latte?" She asked.

"Non-fat."

She smiled and nodded.

She placed two warm cups between us and sat down, staring at me.

"I didn't know," she confessed. "And I… Nate just turns me into this girl that I don't even recognize."

I stared at her as she held her cup strongly in her caramel hands. Her nails were painted neon green.

"I mean, I used to be this person in control. In charge. I knew what I was going to do, what I was going to say…"

I was staring at her because I suddenly saw myself in her. I knew what was like to lose that control, to not know where you stand because a man has also done that to me.

Only it's not Nate. It's Chuck.

"He's been here, you know," she said after we lapse into comfortable silence.

I gave her a questioning look because Chuck would never—

"Chuck," she finished. "He took some coffee and just stared at the window."

I thanked her for the coffee and invited her to the 'welcome back, Blair' party Serena was planning.

We're not friends. We're just _ok_ with each other.

--

"I'm rather sad that these conversations are coming to an end," Dr. Fiore told me.

"Is that how it makes you feel?" I asked, smirking.

She smiled back.

"Yes. Yes it is."

She's not that bad. I did advise her to change her name if she's planning on re-marrying.

--

I found him finishing his run in the morning, and he paused when he saw me. Obviously stunned. Not even when we were going out would I be out in the park unless it was fashion week.

"You lost?" He asked, but there was a smile on his face.

I smiled back.

"No, actually. I came to find you," I told him.

He nodded. "Ok. Find me you did."

"Lets walk," I said, trying not to demand because I'm no one to usher him around anymore.

We walked for a bit, in silence as the park came alive around us – the smell of Christmas was in the air.

"How are you feeling?" He asked.

I looked him over. "Lonely."

He nodded. "I guess no one can really understand."

I nodded. "I talked to Vanessa the other day."

He stopped, looking me over. "Blair—"

I smiled, holding up my hand. "Easy Archibald – it was all niceties."

He looked me over skeptically. Granted, I'm a bitch most of the time and he has no right to trust me. But this time, I was being honestly honest, and I guess he saw it because he relaxed a bit.

"She reminds me of… me. Of how… Chuck has _changed_ me in a way… I can't explain it. Like you're doing to her what Chuck has done to me."

He was still looking as confused as ever. I let out a breath.

"You've got a good girl there, Nate. Don't waste it," I nodded at him.

We walked for a while longer when he stopped. "Look, he's my best friend, and I'm supposed to be on his side anyway, but… He's miserable without you. Always has been."

I didn't dare look at him because I liked the snow and was slightly fascinated by the bits of it left on the side of the walkway.

"During the entire summer, while you were with Marcus, while you two had your little battle – he was just miserable," He continued even though I wanted him to stop and keep going at the same time. "You've got a good guy there, Blair. Don't waste it."

I finally smiled at him and ruffled his hair.

"I'll see you later, Archibald."

And we went our own separate ways.

--

You may be wondering by now why Chuck and I are not together? Why we're not talking when it seems like the entire universe is conspiring to get us back together. Well, that's when it gets complicated.

At the hospital, he left because he knew I wasn't comfortable with him around. When I woke after my bagel binge with Serena, there was a bouquet of flowers by my bedside. The card read;

_Blair,_

_Find me when you're ready._

_Love always, _

_Chuck_

This time I didn't crumble the card, I didn't throw it across the room. This time I kissed it and held it in my hand all the way home.

_Find me when you're ready_. How does a girl know when she's ready to face what could possibly be the rest of her life?

I once thought memories were the soul of a person. The more memories you had, the more you grew up. The more you knew. I gained my memories all in a moment. I felt… silly and child-like. My behavior towards Nate, Vanessa, Serena, and even Chuck was just silly.

A silly little girl. I felt ashamed, so I had to clear everything up before I could go any further.

I was grateful we were out of school so that I didn't have to see him everyday, see in his eyes the constant question 'Are you ready?'

Are you ready, Blair Waldorf? Are you ready?

Being ready to be with Chuck meant to fully grow up. To embark on an adult relationship where silly and petty attacks were not permitted.

I thought I had that with Nate, but it was just silly Blair playing house. There would be no playing this time. This time it would be for real.

For real, for real. I would end up Mrs. Bass. Have his kids, be partners in every way.

Was I ready? I was only eighteen. Can one be really ready?

My mother married my father at the age of 19. Upper East Siders tended to marry early, and it was more often than not an arranged situation. If I had been with Nate, we would already be engaged and making plans to marry the moment we finished college.

My party was coming closer and closer, and I knew he would be there. The party was for December 23rd, Christmas themed and full of color.

Strangely enough, we were all here. No fancy holiday vacations, no far off places. Just here. In good old New York for the holidays.

--

"What are you going to wear?" Serena asked me and I brought out the planned dress. She gasped. "I love it!" She nodded, coming to touch it.

We cooed and ahhed over the decorations when my stylist arrived, and then Serena leaft to get ready herself. While my hair was getting done, I got this immense chill down my spine as I stared at my reflection in the mirror.

And a smile plastered itself on my face. My make-up artist became annoyed because I couldn't control it.

"Honey, you must be in love," He joked, clicking his tongue.

"I sure am." And I was sighing like an uncontrolled idiot.

"Does he know?" He asked.

"He's finding out tonight," I confessed.

He raised his bleached brow. "Water-proof mascara, then."

He understands me so well.

--

Serena did me proud and the party was already a huge success by the time I arrived. I had people fawning all over my new Dolce dress. I smiled graciously, nodding at everyone, never being one to pass up an opportunity to shine.

That was when his eyes found me, and I knew it because at that instant, all the hairs on my neck stood to attention.

I slowly turned and looked at him. He was lounging, hands in pockets, dressed in ivory, and looking as temping as ever. We matched. His eyes were black ebony as he waited for my move.

I took a deep breath because this was it. This was my heroine moment. The one I had dreamt of since I was little. The one that lives are made of.

I began walking towards him and stopped just when we were able to speak to each other without shouting over the music. Which was pretty close.

"Waldorf," he nodded, his eyes never leaving mine.

"Chuck," I replied, and he shifted.

"Merry Christmas," He said softly. His eyes were lightening before mine. Turning a soft greenish-brown.

We stared at each other; the world was a bland mess around us, because it was just us. Just Chuck and I, and that was alright. It was rather perfect, actually.

"You said you loved me," I began.

He blinked.

"When I woke. You said you loved me."

He pushed himself off the wall and now I felt his breath on me because we were so very close to each other.

"I did."

"Do you still mean it?" I asked.

He didn't answer, he simply touched my hair softly and nodded. That was enough.

"Then I'm ready," I replied.

And it was a soft moment. For all the hard that Chuck and I could be, this was genuinely soft.

"You said…" He licked his lips. "You said that if I said it… Then you'd be mine."

I smiled because, at times, he was like a child that needed reassurance. I pulled his head down, and I was drowning in his scent. So masculine, so mysterious, and 100 percent mine.

"I was always yours, Bass."

And then we kissed. Like those kisses I told you about before? The ones that make me feel like I'm in a movie set, and there's music playing in the background as the party continues, undisturbed. In my mind, we were kissing under mistletoe and the credits were slowly rolling as we continued to be lost in each other.

When we finally pull back, I looked up and smiled. Because we were under mistletoe and it felt like I was made to be in this man's arms.

"What?" He asked, smiling slightly as we swayed to the boy-band music.

"You kissed me under the mistletoe," I pointed out, and he looked up. I studied his throat and decided to kiss it because it was pale and inviting, and it was all mine. He held me closer.

"So we did," He agreed.

We danced a bit, and then he took me out to the balcony and we stared at the full moon. He had never been this very romantic with me, and I couldn't help but love him all the more for it. Because I knew we'd get tired of the romance and have sex in some little risqué corner any minute, but for right now – the appetizer that I was living was rather perfect.

So you understand, dear diary, why I stopped writing in you. There's only a few pages left to you, anyways, and I wanted a chance to write how it ended; how this crazy Chuck & Blair story ended. The fact is that I don't want it to end.

I want to write "…" at the end and make it be alright.

Because endings should be beginnings. The best stories are told as such.

And every girl should be her own heroine in her own right. I wasn't a heroine before, was I? Chasing after a man who didn't want me? Putting up petty fights with my best friend? Resenting my body and my mother? I feel much more heroic now. I feel accomplished.

We (Chuck & I) came back from a trip to Tuscany yesterday. My skin is tan is glowing, and he's slightly pink and exhausted. He's asleep on my bed right now, and I want to finish you off so I can go lay on top of him.

So I just wanted to thank you. For listening, for never judging, and for always knowing how the story was going to end/begin. But you let me do it, you let me say it and let me find my own way, which I really appreciate because you really are quite pretty.

I want to leave you with wise words, but my thoughts have just been interrupted by a loud snore coming from the man asleep on my bed.

What the hell – every heroine needs a silly moment.

_Chuck & Blair 4 Ever_.

--

I closed my journal and stared at it. Stared at the little butterflies dancing on the camel-colored leather. I smiled.

_Hopefully one day, you'll remember_.

That was what was written on the front flap. I took my journal with me and lay next to Chuck, waking him up. He mumbled a bit, and I kissed his pink cheek. He fell asleep in the sun and looked like a lobster.

"What's this?" He asked, looking at the journal.

"You gave it to me, remember?" I told him, handing him the book.

He recognized it. "Did you ever use it?"

I smirked as he opened it. "I finished it."

His eyes brows raise. "Did you?"

I nod.

"Why are you giving it to me?"

"Because…" I touched his hand. "It's better than a pin. It's my heart in words."

He put the book down and pulled me in. We fell asleep, journal on his chest, my leg over his hip and his nose in my hair.

Dear life. I love this man and he loves me.

_i carry your heart with me(i carry it in  
__my heart)i am never without it(anywhere  
__i go you go, my dear; and whatever is done  
__by only me is your doing, my darling)  
__i fear  
__no fate(for you are my fate ,my sweet)i want  
__no world(for beautiful you are my world, my true)  
__and it's you are whatever a moon has always meant  
__and whatever a sun will always sing is you_

_here is the deepest secret nobody knows  
__(here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud  
__and the sky of the sky of a tree called life; which grows  
__higher than the soul can hope or mind can hide)  
__and this is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart_

_i carry your heart(i carry it in my heart)_

_ee cummings_

--

The end

A/N – Thank you so very much for all those of you who took time out to leave a review and let me know that you enjoyed the story. I really appreciate it. Below is a preview of the next series I will begin working on this week.

* * *

Preview for my next series:

Title: **Castaways**

Summary: Before they kissed, before the night at Victrola, they were going to meet Nate at St. Croix. That is, before their plane crashed, and they were left the only two survivors on an island with no other inhabitants.

"_We have to build a fire." She __said__, eyeing the sticks on the floor._

_He shifted next to her and she cursed. Out of all the men to be stranded with, she had to be stranded with Chuck Bass! Chuck Bass, who hadn't done a day of labor in his spoiled life!_

"_And how do you suppose we do that?" He sneered._

_She sighed, exasperated. "Don't you like rub the sticks together or something?"_

"_I guess. I'm not the National Geographic guy, you know."_

"_Oh, I know," she snapped._

"_Ok. We can do this." He rubbed his palms over his pants. "Stick rubbing."_

_She watched as he kneeled and grabbed two sticks, beginning a pathetic imitation of stick rubbing. He suddenly dropped them, howling and standing up._

"_What?" She asked, confused._

"_I got a splinter!" He __explained__, suckling on his thumb._

"_Oh, my God. We're going to die," she said, eyes wide._


End file.
